Expecting the Unexpected
by LollyMc
Summary: In which Fate changed her mind, and the gender of one of the greatest heroes of the wizarding world. See the impact it has on one of the MOST RIVETING stories ever told; the story of Harry Potter. Fem!HarryxCD/SS Mostly HPxSS READ AND REVIEW!
1. Mixed Beginnings

Expecting the Unexpected

_In which Fate changed her mind, and the gender of one of the greatest heroes of the wizarding world. See the impact it has on one of the greatest stories ever told; the story of Harry Potter._

I stood on the wet stone steps to my favourite place in the whole world. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This year was going to better. I could feel it in my whole body, a sort of tingling sensation. It helped that there was one more adult in the world who liked me not because of the scar on my forehead but because I was who I was. Harry Potter. Well, my friends call me Harry but my full name is Stephanie Elizabeth-Henriette Potter. Stephanie after my father's grandmother and then Elizabeth after my mother's favourite aunt. Apparently, I was a very cute baby, so says Sirius. Chubby but with dark ringlet, startling green eyes and a gurgling laugh.

Anyway I'm getting away from the point, what I'm _trying _to say is that I _thought _this year was somehow going to be spectacularly different than my three others and in some ways I was right but in others I couldn't have been further from the truth, because some things never change. So anyway, back on to the radical event that will change our whole fourth year experience (according to Ron).

We were seated in the Great Hall, as usual and we'd just started tucking into our delicious meal. Hermione and I exchanged looks while Ron stuffed his face like the ravenous little piggy that he is. For some reason, Diggory, the dishy, older Hufflepuff kept looking at me strangely.

"Hermione, is it my imagination or is one of the Hufflepuffs looking at us." I went red as I asked this because I knew that he was, I just needed some solid confirmation.

"Merlin's beard Harry, he's looking at you! Frequently. Goodness gracious." Ron half-swallowed a mouth full of boiling hot mash potato.

"'irty git. 'e's way too old for you 'arry." Hermione paled, then snapped back,

"Don't talk with your mouth full Ronald." Blushing deeply I tried a small smile back at Dishy Diggory. To my infinite surprise he smiled and winked back.

"Wow," I breathed. Before this summer, I had never attracted boys that much before but I think over the holidays I must have done some serious _developing._ I'd actually gained some curves on my skinny boyish frame although it helps that I don't have to follow the Dursley's ridiculous diet anymore.

"I think you're, as they say, 'in' there Harry." Hermione giggled. I turned another beetroot shade of red. So dinner was all eaten and before we knew it we'd stuffed ourselves with pudding as well. I felt ready to burst, thinking I'd eaten more that night than my whole time at the Dursley's house put together. Fit to bursting we stopped short mid-convo as Dumbledore delicately tapped his crystal goblet with the golden fork in his left hand. As he began to talk we slowly lowered our jaws until we were all sat there looking as though we were trying to catch flies. The Triwizard Tournament. An event of utmost prestige that was going to be held at our school! We were excited to say the least. As we stumbled back upstairs to the common room, sleepy and full from the huge amounts of food, conversation started to flow.

Ron yawned and plonked himself into a cushy armchair saying sleepily, "If only, eh?"

"Hmm?" Hermione responded, looking a bit dazed.

"You know, if only we could enter. Imagine what that prize money could do!" We exchanged a look and we both were picturing the same thing, broomsticks. Yeah I had a Firebolt but I sure would like to get one for Ron.

"Yes, but none of us are old enough so there's not really much point in day dreaming is there?" retorted Hermione snippily. Somehow, Ron and her managed to argue about anything and everything. It's mental, they can blow up over who gets the last piece of toast at breakfast! Definitely has something to do with the unresolved sexual tension there. Before it turned into a full-scale shouting match, I slid out of the portrait hole to Hermione saying heatedly, "Well I hardly think Fred and George could outwit Dumbledore's magic, one of the greatest wizards of ALL TIME!"

They will never learn. There was still some blood-red September sun's rays slanting in through the castle windows and I regretted not having brought my invisibility cloak. Though it was only a little past curfew time, I didn't feel the buzz of being out after hours like I usually did. On a spur of the moment decision, I started off towards the Owlery. I was sure Sirius would want to hear about the Triwizard Tournament. I giggled quietly; he's be nearly as excited as we were. For a second I felt immensely sad for all the precious years Sirius and I had lost. That time could never be regained but at least we could make the most of what we did have. If only we'd caught that bastard Wormtail last year. I was so deep in melancholy reverie that I didn't notice the footsteps behind me until an ice cold hand was placed firmly on my shoulder. With a terrified intake of breath I spun round, wand pointed at my attacker.

Professor Severus Snape stared down at me with cold, disdainful eyes.

"Potter," he hissed malevolently. "Breaking the rules already are we? This will be a week's worth of detention." His grip on my shoulder tightened uncomfortably and I shuddered. "Always the rebels, the Potters. Just like your good-for-nothing father. Look where disobedience landed him Potter. Like father, like daughter, eh?"

Hot, angry tears streamed down my face and I really can't justify what I did next apart from that I wasn't thinking clearly at the time, being so tired and angry. With all the strength my feeble arms could muster, I punched Professor Snape in the arm. I think it surprised more than hurt him; he obviously hadn't expected me to react so emotionally. I'd had worse taunts that this in my previous three years but I just couldn't stand it. Blame it on the hormones; after all, I _am _now fourteen. If I didn't know my sadistic potions master better I'd have said there was the tiniest little bit of regret in his eyes when he said, "Make that week's detention a month Miss Potter. See you tomorrow night, six o'clock. My office."

With a sweep of his black robe, he turned on his heels and disappeared into the now-dark corridors. My face still hot and wet, I turned to go back to the common room. A month's detention with Snape! No doubt, he'd have me doing the absolute worse jobs he could think of that fall just short of torture. Hate is not strong enough for what I feel for that man. Yet…when he was holding my shoulder I still had the feeling that I get when any guy touches me. I think it must come from never being hugged growing up. Hagrid doesn't really count, those are more bone squeezes.

The Fat Lady was a bit miffed that I woke her up from her evening nap but I apologized profusely and turned on the sympathy by telling her what that son of a bitch had given me. A whole month! The common room looked cosily untidy, much more like home and definitely much more Gryffindor. Looked like Fred and George had been setting off some of their lovely indoor fireworks. The stairs up to the girls common room always do feel longer when you're tired. Not to mention depressed.

As I climbed into the soft quilts of my red bed and closed the drapes I mulled over what may have been one of the best and worst first nights ever at Hogwarts. If I tried really hard I could still muster some sense of excitement for the Tournament, it was sure to be amazing. Though Snape's detentions were like a two-tonne weight, crushing all the happiness out of my other thoughts.

And so that was how I fell asleep that first night back in Gryffindor tower, dreading the following evening with all my body. Sleep would have been impossible were it not for the dreamy recollection of how that Dishy Diggory had winked at me over the tables.


	2. Monotony

Monotony

_A/N: __I really don't think all the chapters will be this long! I just couldn't find a suitable place to stop and neither could I split it into two. Sorry if you think things are going two fast but a month's of detentions is a lot of time spent together! _

Therefore, when I awoke the following morning, it was with a sense of dread and more than a little hope that Hermione was going to be very sympathetic with me and not just rattle out one of her trademark 'well-you-know-what-happens-when-you-break-the-rules' speeches. They're just so irritating! I started to sleepily dress when Hermione murmured astonished,

"Harry, your eyes are so puffy! Are you ok?"

Her concern broke my dream and I remembered screaming and sobbing, dreaming yet again of the death of my brave parents. Sighing deeply, I cursed Snape. This was all his fault, I hadn't had these dreams in months. Thank Merlin I'd had the foresight to put those muffling charms over my bed before I went to sleep. Waking the whole dorm with screams is one of the most embarrassing things I've ever done. Hopefully it wont be a problem from now on but it definitely affects the amount of rest I get. It seemed as if I'd been asleep five minutes not five hours.

Hermione worried even more when I told her about my nightmare.

"Harry, you can't let yourself become too stressed what Snape said. Since when did his opinion get you down? We all know what a mean person he is."

And she was right, I couldn't explain exactly what about last night had made the dreams return with such a vengeance. It probably had something to do with me being so vulnerable after thinking about how much I missed Sirius.

"I know Hermione, I do. It wont get me down, I was just a bit rattled that my nightmares came back, that's all." I tried my best to force a smile but I think it must have looked more like a grimace because the lines on her face only deepened.

Breakfast was a rather gloomy ordeal, Ron was not impressed at Snape's punishment to say the least.

"But Harry, what about your Quidditch?" he moaned at me.

"Ron do you think I haven't already thought about that! I'm going to have to practice the whole weekend and maybe half an hour after dinner," I said, letting my head droop between my hands.

Ron dared to send a shooting look of loathing up to the Teacher's table. For some reason Snape was already looking this way and Ron made eye contact. If I wasn't already so depressed I might have found it hilarious that Snape just raised an eyebrow and Ron went that special, trademark Weasley red.

Professor McGonagall started to make her way along the Gryffindor table with lesson timetables. I crossed my fingers and silently prayed, 'not potions, not potions, please not potions'.

I think someone must have cursed me at birth, someone other from Voldemort I mean. Staring me in the face was possibly the worst morning I had ever faced; _double _Potions, with (of all people) the Slytherins! Ron and I groaned in unison. Hermione simply sniffed and added, not-so-helpfully

"Come on, you two, it's only one morning then…" Ron and I turned to look at her, daring the say 'and then only a month's worth of detention.'

With begrudging feet we walked down to the dungeons, pulling our cloaks tighter around us as drafty and chilly air nipped us.

Malfoy was leaning against the door, grinning smugly at me.

"What?" I spat out, he really was an insufferable creature.

"Well, nothing really," he drawled, "Just heard about your scuffle with our beloved Head of House last night." He chuckled and looked at me scornfully.

"You're not going to punch me as well, are you Potter?"

His cronies guffawed dutifully and Pansy Pignose simpered over him, like a little puppy. Honestly, all this because I'd turned him down for a date in our first year. You know, I used to wonder if it wouldn't have been less trouble to humour him. As he made yet more wisecracks at my expense, I longed to do a Hermione and punch him right in his smug, ratty, little face. I took step forward, fists clenched but a low, dangerous voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Miss Potter, I hope you do not wish to spend _even more_ time in my office? Or maybe this time you'd like some of those non-existent Gryffindor points taken?" he murmured.

Uncurling my fingers, "No sir. Sorry sir."

We entered and Malfoy enjoyed a good five minutes mocking me in a falsetto voice 'no sir, sorry sir' again and again.

Hermione sat on a stool beside me and was about to unpack her things when Snape called from the front of the classroom,  
"No Miss Granger, I think I'll have Miss Potter sit up here by myself please. There's no knowing what mayhem she may cause, if left to her own devices."

Snape let one side of his face tilt upwards in a mockery of a smile.

He instructed us that today we would be making a Wit-Sharpening potion and made the easily foreseeable jokes about my lack of wit and how this potion would be totally redundant because you cant sharpen something you don't have, then gave us 80 minutes and at the end he would sample one potion.

I opened my book at the correct page but, as usual, the instructions blurred with boredom and I chopped things I should have sliced, squeezed things I should have crushed and I think I actually lost a live cricket down my top. With all the cauldrons lit, the room began to warm up and, it being an unusually hot day for Autumn, I had to take off my robe.

It wasn't really a big deal, others had done it, and Lavender Brown had undone about five of her shirt buttons. But, like I said before, I'd done a good amount of _developing_ over the Summer and Mrs. Weasley hadn't really taken that into account when doing my shopping for me.

I hadn't realised but quite a few of my top buttons had come undone and my tie had slunk down a little. It wasn't until Malfoy walked past and made a snide comment about me 'looking available for work' that I looked down. In retaliation I flicked a firebug at him. He definitely made that burn on his arm looks worse than it really was! Snape wasn't pleased to say the least.

He had great pleasure in telling me that he would personally find the absolute worst jobs he could exact in me the pain I'd caused one of his students. A lesser student might have broken under my Potion's master's torrent of abuse but I think that the night before had made me stronger. I never wanted to be caught that vulnerable again, or expose how much his words could hurt me. I'd built up my reputation as Harry Potter, the girl who could withstand just about anything and now I had to stick to it.

The rest of the day passed in a relieved blur (relief that I hadn't lost our house any points before we'd had time to gain them). Even Divination was enjoyable! Time flew by far too quickly for my liking and soon enough I'd finished dinner and it was quarter to six.

"We'll wait up for you," Ron promised, looking suitably sympathetic.

"Yeah, and I'll start your History of Magic essay for you," Hermione said kindly.

I nodded and, rather bravely in my opinion, headed off to see one of my least favourite people in the world.

He was sat there, in his dingy office, looking like a creature of the night. And by that I really don't mean a hooker, though I did think the phrase ironic given the reason why I'd burned Malfoy this afternoon.

"Ah Miss Potter," he drawled, looking at me sneeringly, "There are some FireLizards over there that I need you to dissect for me."

In the corner there was a pile of very red reptiles that looked startlingly alive for creatures so dead. Groaning, I picked one up. Its bright skin irritated my fingers and they began to itch, then sting, then burn white-hot.

"Professor! My hands, please, they're burning."

He swept over to me and took my hands in his own. Despite myself, electric prickles ran through my body at close male contact. Snape looked down at me, our eyes meeting and he smiled cruelly.

"Sorry Miss Potter, didn't you see the protective gloves to your right. Do forgive me for not pointing out something so screamingly obvious."

Blisters appeared on my fingers and they really hurt when they brushed anything, so cutting up things for four hours was a tedious and painful task. Not wanting to give in to the bullying I told myself to stay strong, not to whimper or cry out. I was doing well until about the fiftieth FireLizard. Its stupid head wouldn't come off and the harder I tried, the more my fingers screamed out in protest. I was fighting a losing battle. With one final push, it's head came off but one of blisters burst inside the glove. That was the final straw. The tiniest whimper escaped my lips and one solitary tear rolled down my cheek. Snape's head snapped up and his eyebrows knitted together. Without saying a word he swept out of the office.

Well, I just sank into his huge green, cracked-leather sofa. Honest to Merlin, I really didn't see how I was going to survive four weeks of this; my hands were already rawer than the meat Hagrid used to feed Buckbeak. My eyes were heavy and my lids drooped. This really was a very comfy sofa. I sprang up when I heard his footsteps drawing closer.

"Here," he said shortly, "Take those gloves off and soak your hands in this." He put a large bowl of foul smelling liquid on the counter at the side of the room where I had been dissecting.

"Then you may leave."

Gingerly, I pulled off one glove. Sheesh, it hurt like hell but I had to do it. My hands were an astonishing mixture of raw redness and purple-blue bruises. I sniffed the disgusting concoction and was about to pretend to put my hands in when Snape appeared behind me.

"Miss Potter, this is Murtlap essence and will only be of assistance to your…injuries."

I could feel the warmth radiating from his very close body and as his hands clasped by wrists and submerged them in the mixture, my arms shook with the soothing relief the Murtlap brought but also with another feeling. As quickly as humanly possible, he released me and went back to his desk.

It took me a few seconds to realize I was breathing faster and louder than usual, also that my face had turned as red as a FireLizard. Cursing my teenage reactions I slowly took my hands out the bowl. Amazing. They were nearly healed and nearly painless.

Gathering my bag and cloak, I walked to the office door, stopping only to whisper,

"Goodnight Professor."

With a sneer he said, "See you tomorrow, Potter."

Obviously his kindness had been guilt. Not even guilt, he was worried that he was going to get in trouble for misconduct. How naïve of me to think that our dear professor actually possessed some human decency.

Ron and Hermione had fallen asleep on the sofa side by side, _almost _touching. On the table was my finished History of Magic essay, charmed into my scrawly hand-writing. Ahh they were lovely best friends, just a pity they can't work out how much they fancy each other. One day though, one day.

Thinking it better that Fred and George got some laughs out of them 'sleeping together'; I went to the dormitory alone.

And so continued the pattern: get ridiculed in potions class, be tortured by menial tasks in the evening and only just manage to fit in some homework and Quidditch in the mean time. Snape was a cruel taskmaster. Apart from that first night, he never let me go until all the herbs, roots or animals in his pile were correctly dissected. It wasn't that the work was hard, just extremely boring and monotonous. Though I guess it served the purpose of the detention, I never wanted to hit him again! One night, when I was more tired than usual and upset from being scolded by Angelina for missing a Gryffindor practice _again_, I decided to appeal to Snape's sense of decency.

It wasn't like I'd never spoken to him before, I often tried to break the piercing silences with questions about potions but he usually dismissed me, or answered monosyllabically.

"Professor, please may I ask you something?" My voice shattered the silence that had cloaked us.

"Mmm, what is it now? What does the great Harry Potter want to know?" he said, not looking up from the essays he was marking. He took great delight in telling me my mistakes whenever he marked mine.

"It's Stephanie, actually." I corrected meekly, it wasn't the time to anger him.

"Pardon?"

"My name, there was a clerical error and it was printed Harriet Potter, but that's my middle name. I like Stephanie better." By now, I was blushing under his penetrating dark gaze.

"Well then, Stephanie, come and sit here and ask away. You have finished slicing the batwings." He dropped his raven's feather quill into the blood-red ink and touching the tips of his fingers together expectantly.

"Sir, I was wondering whether I might...er… swap some of my detentions? To lunchtime maybe?"

Snape looked at me, mockingly. Then again his face never really showed much expression so it may have been surprise.

"May I ask why?"

"Well, sir. I was really hoping that I could have more time to prac-" his brows raised, "To do my homework. You see, I'm getting rather behind."

Hanging my head at the obviousness of my white lie, I crossed my fingers. It wasn't completely untrue. I _was_ falling behind in homework but no more than usual. I just needed more time out and about, fulfilling my passion. The only time I ever felt truly free was when I was flying.

Calloused fingertips touched my chin and Professor Snape brought my head up until I was staring deep into his eyes. I shuddered involuntarily and my skin was hot where his touch had been. My breathing quickened.

"If you tell me the truth, I may consider it."

Found out so easily! This man was good, he'd probably had too much practice telling when students' excuses were bogus. Fluttering my eyelids in a hilariously bad attempt at feminine charm I told him the reason.

"I want to practice my Quidditch," I admitted guiltily. Snape looked at me firmly.

"Good," he paused, "…denied."

"But you said-!"

"I promised you nothing, _Stephanie,"_ he drawled. "Quite the opposite. I believe I used the phrase 'may'."

"But sir," I said, standing up and pleading with my eyes, "This is everything. If I don't train then Gryffindor aren't even going to be easy to beat. We won't have a working team at all!"

"That sounds very selfish, Stephanie!" he was raising his voice to match my own and standing, "To say that without _you_ your team would be nothing!"

I shook my head furiously, my black curls bouncing around. Taking ten deep breaths, I sat down, calmer now. Snape let his complexion rinse to pale and sat again.

"Please professor," I whispered, "Quidditch is the only thing that doesn't make me feel like a total disappointment to everyone." The fact that this was pure and honest broke me and I felt my face getting wet.

"It's the only time I can be free from my past and not have to worry about the future. The only thing that matters when I'm in the air is that little golden ball. Please don't take that away from me."

Either he'd been effected by something I'd said, or he just didn't want an annoying little blubberer in his office anymore, but something made him nod his head once, looking as though it pained him to do so. Victory didn't feel nearly as sweet as I had imagined. Telling _Snape_ of all people how I truly felt was like a crime. And yet, he'd been pretty understanding about it all. With my head spinning I walked out of the dungeon.

Ron and Hermione were a little more than surprised when I told them the following day at breakfast. They thought Snape must be going a little loopy. We were discussing it over our cornflakes when Cedric Diggory walked over. He was smiling a dazzlingly bright smile and one of his golden-brown locks had fallen over one eye.

"Hey Potter," he said smoothly, "Are you going to be supporting me when I'm one of the Triwizard competitors?"

He tossed his hair and winked at me. I nearly choked on a mouthful of cornflakes. He was so damned attractive!

"Umm, s-sure," I managed to cough, rather unattractively.

"Great, see you around then." With another heart-breaking smile, he turned and went to join his group of friends again.

My heart was doing double time and I'm pretty sure my face was a truly embarrassing colour. Hermione and Ron were speechless as I struggled to regain composure.

"Wow," Hermione and I breathed at the same time.

Ron just muttered sulkily, "Smarmy git."

I was _really _looking forward to the Tournament ceremony this weekend. With any luck, Diggory'd be chosen and then… I might end up being friends with a Triwizard champion! As we left I thought I caught a glimpse of Professor Snape giving the Hufflepuff table a very irritated glare.


	3. Moonlight

Moonlight

_A/N: Reviews would be really appreciated! Because it's hard to know the bits that people really enjoy reading and stuff I could cut out. I have quite a few ideas for where I want this to lead and to a bigger plot, (though mostly it will be canon through fourth year). SO PLEASE REVIEW! Also this chapter was going xxx_

So there we sat, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Beaubatons and Durmstrang students. Ron was repeating again and again that Fred and George had told him how gorgeous the Beaubats were gonna be. Hermione tired of _that _speech pretty quickly and kept shooting our red-headed chum glances that could score a blast-ended skrewt. Everyone was on best behaviors, orders of their respective Heads of Houses. Slytherin looked especially neat; I suspected that Snape had promised that anyone who looked scruffy would receive a particularly nasty consequence. I could relate to that. Actually, Snape had been odd since the detention when I'd told him about my flying. It was as if he was trying to be a little gentler towards me…he'd definitely lowered the risk of the tasks he set me on. Now I was cleaning cauldrons all lunch and that wasn't a problem unless Seamus or Neville had left some particularly volatile substance in their cauldrons. Once or twice I singed my eyebrows clean off. It was weird but that wasn't the only thing that had been weird lately…

My dreams! Honest to Merlin I think I may be wrong in the head. One night I'd have an absolutely terrifying voldemort-esque nightmare and wake up with my scar searing on my forehead, as if it had just been split open. Then other nights I would have the most intoxicating and vivid (not to mention embarrassing) dreams about Diggory and me playing a passionate round of tonsil tennis. Now that wouldn't have been too bad but always in the last seconds his face would morph into someone with longer and darker hair and the mellow brown eyes I had been staring into would turn onyx, then they'd stare straight at me. Creepy. But the thing was, I really enjoyed those dreams. I'd wake up feeling warm and, um, _tingly. _Then Hermione would ask if I'd slept well and depending on the dream I'd had, I would either turn white as a sheet or tomato red.

Suddenly I was jerked out of my dreamy reverie by Dumbledore quietly clearing his throat for silence.

"Students, I am very proud to present to you, the beautiful girls of the Beaubaton's Academy and their esteemed headmistress, Madame Maxime," the great wizard's clear voice rang through the hall and as it did, the doors opened onto twelve of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen. They wore flowing blue robes that seemed to swirl and billow around their bodies. Charmed butterflies flew around their heads as they sashayed down the tables. One particularly beautiful one blew a kiss at Ron and Hermione nearly blew a fuse. Their headmistress was something else altogether though . Nearly three times the height of any woman at Hogwart's she was indeed a formidable lady. She looked as though she could tuck Dumbledore under armpit or snap him like a stick if she wanted. Hagrid seemed to be a fan of hers at any rate, his eyes were big and round like a puppy.

Ron was still bedazzled by that one little airkiss and Hermione still in a huff so when Dumbledore announced the entrance of the Durmstrang boys, she and I weren't really prepared for how…wild-looking the boys would be. And I don't mean wild in an unruly sense, oh no. No, they were disciplined (probably by their scary Head, Karkaroff) but they were wild in a controlled, kind of sexy way. They looked dangerous and some were very handsome.

"Bloody hell," Ron gasped, "It's Krum! I thought he was about twenty seven." The red-head stared in awe at the Quidditch genius.

"I wonder how he fits it all in, his work I-" Hermione started to say but she was cut short by a wink from the young legend.

"Bloody hellfire," I whispered, "If that Beaubaton's girl likes Ron, then I think Krum may have the hots for you Hermy." We giggled and I threw my arm round her as Ron scowled.

Dumbledore rattled out all the predictables, along the lines of "look after them, respect them, show them Hogwarts courtesy, blah blah blah." I only started listening when Ron dug me in the ribs and I caught the end of the word 'Quidditch'. My ears pricked and I caught Snape glowering at me from Top Table.

"What was that he said guys?" I whispered, wondering why it had upset Snape so much. Maybe Moody had been appointment to Defence Against the Dark Arts permanently.

"Quidditch cup's cancelled," Ron muttered glumly, slumping in his seat, "No fun matches to watch then. Stupid Durmstrang blockheads, ruining our Qu-"

Hermione kicked him hard under the table, making Ron squeak in pain. Dumbledore went on to reveal the Goblet of Fire, the magical cup into which we could put our names. It would select one contestant from each school and they would be the Triwizard champion. The trophy filled with the thousand Galleon prize money looked truly amazing and Ron nearly started drooling. Dumbledore then went to wish our guests the very best of stays and dismissed us.

Hermione looked thoughtful as we trudged up the stairs to our dorm, I was the slowest because I knew what awaited me in our common room: a DADA essay.

"Sup, 'Mione?" Ron asked, going to put an arm round her shoulder but then settling for a little punch on the arm. She rubbed her arm then answered.

"Oh, nothing much. I'm just thinking about who'll be Hogwarts champion."

"Diggory, 'spose," Ron said darkly, "Remember?" He put on a mocking voice, "_WHEN_ I'm champion!"

Just at that very moment the man himself walked past and took my hand in his. I nearly jumped out of my skin, then blushed, remembering my vivid dreams.

"Hey Harry, will you come with me when I put my name in tomorrow night? You can be my good luck charm," Cedric said with a truly pulse-racing smile. Before I could even stutter out a confirmation he said,

"Great, see you in the Hall after dinner then," and sauntered off with his Hufflepuff friends.

"Git." I spun and punched Ron in the arm.

My heart was still beating hard when we were safely seated round the fire in the Common Room. It was the typical process; me and Ron would attempt to do our essays for about an hour or two before Hermione would take pity on us and give us an essays' worth of hints. This particular essay I was pretty much sorted because it was on Unforgivable Curses and of course I'd come into very close contact with one.

Moody's a weird teacher, brilliant yeah, but definitely odd. He's always looking behind him and jumping when there's nothing there. I think he must have been a hunted man some time in his life. From time to time I see bits of Sirius in him, the constant paranoia and stuff. Saying all that, I'll definately love him forever. He turned Malfoy into a ferret! Classic, the look on Goyle's face when little ferret-boy was in his pants was genius. Hermione was right in telling him to stop that thing with the spiders though, poor Neville looked like he was going to faint.

We finally finished our homework sometime about eleven and Hermione and I sloped off to the girls' rooms. With a happy sigh, she collapsed on her bed. I think some of Krum's charm had affected her, or though maybe she'd just gotten some kicks out of writing that essay. That's the kind of girl she is.

The next day was a rather eventful one for me, as it was my penultimate detention with Snape. That didn't cheer me as much as I thought it would but my happiness level was boosted by my 'date' (Hermione said it was, Ron said definitely not) with Dishy Diggory.

Transfiguration with McGonagall was amazing because there were some of the Beaubatons girls perched on some desks at the back (Ron couldn't keep his eyes off them) so McGonagall was trying to be the perfect combination of warm and firm. Basically, we could get away with murder and she wouldn't lose her cool. One of the Ravenclaws 'accidentally' transfigured her goblet into a rat with a witches hat that had more than a passing resemblance to our beloved Head of House. Professor McGonagall just told her that if she removed the hat next time, it'd be an outstanding achievement.

One of the youngest and prettiest Beaubatons girls came up to me after the lesson. She must have been a sister of one of the competitors because she looked just like a girl I had seen the other day. With nimble little feet, she pranced up to me and blushed shyly.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" she giggled. Without waiting for me to confirm that she said, "I like your scar!" Then she skipped away again. A strange girl indeed.

"Harry," Hermione chided, "Aren't you going to be late for your detention with Professor Snape?"

"Awww Merlin!" I cried and skidded down the corridors and staircases, running straight through Nearly Headless Nick and surprising Peeves halfway through some misdeeds. In fact, I was running so fast, head down, that I careered into the king of the dungeons himself entering his office. It was a half headbutt, half shove and he would have gone toppling over if it weren't for the wall on to which he leant. His arms wrapped round my back in a reflex action and we just froze. So there I was panting like woman who has just run a race (well I practically had), in the arms of Snape who was pressed against the dungeon walls. My knees went all jelloid and my breath hitched in my chest, because it was a very strange experience, being in such close contact with someone who you've spent your evenings with for a whole month. I think he stopped breathing altogether; I doubt he'd ever been in such a compromising position, well not with a student I bet.

Suddenly we heard footsteps round the corner, and with strength I didn't think it possible for him to possess, Snape threw me off himself and began shouting abuse.

"POTTER! If you are _EVER_ and I mean ever even one second late for another detention I will make sure you never see that broom of yours again."

With that, he hauled me in to the office by the back of my robes and I just caught a glimpse of Malfoy chuckling and leering at me mockingly. Bastard. Snape swept over to his desk and sat there, as if in deep thought for a moment. I sat down gingerly on the large leather couch, waiting for some instructions.

"Stephanie Elizabeth Harriet Potter," he breathed slowly after a while, "Do you realize exactly how much danger lies in people observing and misunderstanding that scene?"

He was glowering darkly at me, obviously expecting a terrified affirmative. To be honest I was a bit confused, I thought I remembered teacher-student relations being forbidden in Muggle schools but there'd never been reason for me to know about it in the Wizarding world.

"You would be expelled. Well, they would find a suitably charming way of phrasing it but the long and short is that you would no longer be allowed to remain at Hogwarts," it touched me because he said this with what was his best approximation at concern, "and I," he went on, "I would most likely be removed from my position and away from Dumbledore…what use would I be of to the Dark-"

Snape stopped suddenly, walked over to the end of the couch, and changed the subject rapidly.

"So, there's no Quidditch cup, eh?" he murmured in a silkily dangerous voice,

Oops. I'd probably lost about 10 hours worth of detentions because of our little swap. The thing was I'd stopped classing them as 'detentions'. Since that very first one, they hadn't been too taxing and Snape had been pretty civil. Hell, since we'd done the swap to lunchtimes he'd actually started talking to me.

I'd ask him why he enjoyed potions and in turn he asked me something about my friends or my hobbies. Once or twice he'd asked about the Dursleys…but those memories I'd hidden in a place that I could never visit in my conscious mind.

"Sir, I'll make the hours up, I really don't mind," Ok, so that was a lie, I'd rather spend the time with Cedric but I didn't dread seeing Snape anymore.

"That won't be necessary Stephanie; I'm sure the house elves will be rather glad they have their old work back." He said with a smug smirk.

I was torn between being extremely angry that I'd been doing such menial chores and being extremely glad that I'd never have return to the dormitory with a sooty face again.

"Thanks, sir." Yeah I chose right because he looked more than a bit surprised that I didn't rant and rave at him. Snape's surprised face is so funny, kind of like he doesn't want to appear surprised so he tries to hide it.

He went back to his desks and started on a large stack of test papers two foot tall. I sauntered over and sat in the chair opposite him, because he hadn't given me a job to do yet and the tests were multiple choice, easy to mark. I don't think he noticed me because when I coughed slightly, he jerked and spilt ink over the test paper of MacGrog-SPLODGE. Giggling, because his surprised face is just so rare, I cast an impervious spell so he could finish marking Mac-whatever-his-name-was's paper. When I looked up a moment later he was staring at me very strangely indeed, like he was studying me. Severus Snape was not what you'd call a handsome man. In fact, I'd say he was just above average but there was something about him, and I couldn't put my finger on it, that sent shivers down my spine.

Blushing, I looked away and continued marking the papers. Those poor first years… Snape was going to give them such a hard time for these abysmal results. Going back to my first year I could understand the shoddy response. It was because Snape was so damned scary. If he laid off a bit…but no, that was his way and I doubt if he'd ever change.

When the bell went to signal the end of lunch, I passed the marked papers to him. Our fingers brushed lightly and my whole body tensed. Bloody hormones! It was probably preparing itself for tonight's date.

History of Magic was nearly even more dull than usual. Luckily Hedwig pecked on the window half way through and Hermione and I opened the window very slyly. Old Binns is so out of it I doubt weather he'd have noticed if we'd all just wandered off. My favourite snowy owl was carrying a letter from Sirius. He said he was pleased that I was back at Hogwarts safe and sound and just to be careful when we had shady characters like Karkaroff around. I appreciated the warnings but if someone inside the castle did have it in for me then there wasn't much I would be able to do.

Before dinner, I hastily attempted to change into something more alluring and tried to look sophisticated for Diggory. Being so much older and smarter, I felt more than a little inadequate going on a maybe 'date' with him. Trying (and failing) to tame my hair into something sleek and beautiful, I fought with a brush. After I gave that up I added some Cleopatra eyeliner flicks and decided that would have to do.

Ron looked at me with a mixture of disgust and admiration when I sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"What you getting dressed up for Harry, it's only Diggory," he grumbled into his sticky toffee pudding.

"Don't have a go at me Ronald Weasley. I saw that comb in your pocket right after we'd gone past those Beau babes." I could predict Ron's change in complexion before he went a very pleasing crimson. While my best friend was still recovering, Cedric strolled over to our table and took my hand.

Looking at me appraisingly he said, "Fancy taking a walk, Stephanie?"

Wow. No-one calls me that. Well, with a few exceptions. More importantly how did he find out. As we walked down the hallways, I found that girls either looked jealous or amazed and my head and ego grew. I was walking with Cedric Diggory, school hunk. I felt fingers clasp around my own and I looked up at him in surprise.

"You looked a little cold." He said with his signature smile.

My heart did a little skip and soon we were out in the courtyard, under the cover of the dark wintery sky and the twinkling stars. The moon was bright and full and bathed the space in a magical light. It was the most romantic setting I'd ever been in. Cedric sat me down on a little stone seat in front of a gargoyle and cast some blue flames so I wouldn't get frostbite. He looked thoughtfully at me.

"Stephanie, since you first arrived at Hogwarts, you haven't stopped being incredible." I went to interrupt but he placed a soft finger against my lips.

"Please, let me finish. Even though I know I'm a little older than you, I just can't stop thinking about you. Plus you're incredible at my favourite sport. You're the perfect girl!" He laughed a deep, throaty laugh and gestured for me to say whatever I wanted to. Now that I had the chance, I was lost for words. This boy must have had a lot of experience with the ladies to be this charming.

"Thanks Cedric," I whispered at last, "I've never really thought that I was incredible. Maybe incredibly unlucky…"

Images of my past flashed through my memory, ending with mum and dad. They looked so proud of me in that mirror, in first year…Diggory sensed something was the matter and he placed a hand on the side of my face and slowly brought it towards his own.

The kiss was gentle and warm and comforting. His mouth was soft and tender. A tear rolled down my cheek and I broke away, hanging my arms around his neck and crying gently onto his shoulder. Typical me, always letting the girls down by blubbing when I was with boys. It can't be that attractive.

When I'd stopped he took my hands and whispered in my ear that he thought I was the bravest girl he'd ever known. We talked a little, he told me about his parents and I told him a little of my life story, my first year adventures. When his magical flames died, he draped an arm over my shoulder and led me back towards the castle.

We reached the Goblet of Fire and its blue flames flickered ominously in the huge hall. Cedric took a scrap piece of paper from his back pocket and printed his name on in neat italics. Seeing his name by the light of those flames set off a strange half-memory (like something from a dream)…a graveyard, a hooded figure, fear and death. Just as he was about to drop his name into the cup I grabbed his arm.

"STOP!" He looked at me oddly, then lowered his arm.

"Why?" he was truly perplexed, I could see to him that all that the cup represented was eternal glory.

"Please Cedric. These tasks are meant to be stupidly dangerous and I would hate…" it was embarrassing but I choked it out, "I would hate for something to happen to you, just when I'm getting to know you."

He laughed gently and put his arm around me, kissing my forehead.

"Stephanie, I'm a big boy. I think I can take care of myself."

It still felt wrong and I didn't like it one little bit. I hoped and prayed that the tasks wouldn't be too awful. Silently, I vowed to help Cedric with whatever I could, he was a star student but I'd had three encounters with Lord Voldemort and lived to tell the tale.

He kissed me goodnight again outside the common room and I tangled my hands in his hair. I couldn't help moaning into his mouth, he _was_ a really good kisser. Cedric's hands tightened around my waist and the Fat Lady sniffed disgruntedly. We burst into fits of giggles.

"She's just jealous," whispered Cedric, "G'night Stephenie."

"Night Cedric."

With a contented sigh, I went through the portrait hole and practically danced to the dorms. I felt like singing but that would wake all the girls up and I'd have to go through a blow-by-blow account of the date. Selfishly I wanted to keep this moment all to myself, Hermione could know about it tomorrow.

So when I drifted into sleep that night there was only one thing troubling me…the Triwizard Tournament and the champion's selection in a few day's time.


	4. Memories

Memories

_A/N:__ Hey guys (: I'm so surprised that I've had nearly 1,000 hits on this story. Seriously, I'm so glad people actually like it. Special thanks to __**Adaptive **__and __**the dark euphie **__for the encouragement, I was actually thinking of swapping perspective every couple of chapters. You guys want some Snape perspective? Lots of love to all of you, Lolly xxx_

He took me in his arms again, pressed me close to his warm chest and drew my hair back from my face. With feverish passion, he placed burning kisses along my jaw line and blew softly into my ear. I moaned and he kissed back down my neck, to my chest until I was nearly clawing at his hair to bring his mouth back to mine, to taste him. Suddenly I was eye to eye with him. Dark, black eyes, framed by soft, black hair.

I awoke with a start and did a double take. Whoa. That wasn't exactly the dream I thought I would be having after a lovely night with Cedric. I'd expected at least to have Cedric in my dreams _once._ But that wasn't the only thing bothering me…a month ago I would have been totally repulsed by last night's dream, maybe even gone to see a wizard psychiatrist or something. Now though, it was the opposite, that was the best dream I'd had in ages, so much more vivid and lifelike than the others were. I'm such a weird little which.

When I was up and dressed, it began. As I'd predicted the girls bombarded me with question after question! Was he a good kisser? Did he use the tongue? Did he feel me up? How far did I let him go? What is he like in bed? Technique or size? How long _is_ his-?

They became increasingly more ridiculous and I told them plain and simple we had a lovely respectable date, that he was a perfect gentleman towards me and exactly where they could shove the rest of their stupid questions. Hermione and I exchanged a look behind the others' backs, which meant that I'd tell her all the juicy details soon as I could. We pretended to be looking for her scarf while the other girls filed out the room looking disappointed. I drew the charmed curtains around my bed and filled her in.

"So what was it _like_, kissing him then? Everything you imagined?" she asked eagerly, eyes bright as a little puppy. Gossip is the life source of all girls, I reckon.

"Umm well it was really fun, and nice I suppose," I said, racking my brains for the right words and drawing a blank.

"_Nice_?" Hermione asked incredulously, raising her eyebrows. Uh-oh, definately not the right words.

"Yeah, you know…nice. It felt nice," I said, exasperated. I really couldn't find any other way to put it. Of course, I'd had all the normal hormonal reactions, but there wasn't anything specific I could describe.

"Well, all I mean is that…when Ro-…when a boy I really like touches me, even by mistake, I get fireworks in my belly and weak knees, and my hearts beats really fast and my breath sort of stops…" Hermione turned deepening shades of red as she admitted her secret sensations.

It sounded incredible, but the only person who'd made me feel even one of those things was…I couldn't bring myself to admit it, even in my head. It just couldn't be true. Dreams didn't mean anything anyway. Neither natural hormonal reactions…then again, what I felt with Cedric felt much more tame than the sparks I got when I was pressed against a certain someone against a dungeon wall (even if it wasn't intentionally). Burying my head in my hands I berated Hermione under my breath. I thought I liked Cedric, but maybe it was possible that I liked someone else more…

"OI! You girlies, hurry up! You've missed breakfast and you're going to be late for potions if you don't get a shift on," Ron bellowed from the bottom of the stairs. I still find it funny we're allowed in the boys rooms but not the other way round. I was living proof that girls are not always so _good. _

* * *

On our way down to the dungeons, I saw Cedric in the hallway and he stopped and hugged me, despite the jeering of his mates. He smelled of spice and was warm, but there were definitely no fireworks. Nope, it was comforting, but nothing else. Damnit. Should'nt I be feeling something more? Without any other previous experience, this lovey dovey stuff is really hard! And it's hard to forget the nightmares of my past when people touch me and hold me. Though hopefully Cedric will prove to me that you don't have to be afraid of every guy. Ron helped me to a certain extent with that. At first I was terrified of him and most of the other Hogwarts guys but his tentative friendship meant that I learned to trust him and I'm so glad I did because without him and Hermione my life at Hogwarts wouldn't be the same.

Speaking of the darling Ronald, he was really embarrassing around me and Cedric! He made fake sick noises until Hermione, acting as my savior, delivered a sharp nudge to his ribs (she has really pointy elbows). Don't get me wrong, I love Ron. Loved him since the very first day at Kings Cross Station, but he can be a bit of a silly bugger sometimes.

When I was in first year I used to wish we had been born siblings. No, more specifically I wished that was born a Weasley. I could definitely live with the hair or any other minor side effect, for just a tiny slice of the love that glues that family together. It's so clear that Mrs. Weasley couldn't love her family more if she tried and I wish Ron would appreciate her more. What I would give to have somewhere like that to go back to every holidays, instead of the hateful life I have to endure under the Dursleys.

When I was naughty, cheeky, or sometimes when I would breathe too loud, Vernon would take me by the ear or slap me round the face then yank me to the cupboard, promising that later he'd come and 'get' me. I was so scared of making a noise, I couldn't even let myself cry. Aunt Petunia didn't know, I hope. If she did, then she must really have hated Mum. It was a hateful life and every term I wish that I'd get an owl saying they'd all died in some hideous (and painful) road accident. Luckily it all pretty much stopped when they found out I had Mum and Dad's powers.

Maybe one day, I'll go back there. When I'm seventeen, perhaps. I could bewitch their toaster to stragle them all with the plug, or their socks to cut off the circulation so their feet fall off or maybe their showers to only spray scalding hot water…

My wishful thinkings were shattered as someone cleared their throat impatiently. I looked up, surprised to find myself nearly all alone in the dungeon corridor and leaning against a certain wall. Snape coughed again and looked pointedly at me and then the door. Oops. I hurried in and heard a disapproving sigh follow me. I took my usual place at the front and Snape stood at his desk.

He gave me the briefest of glances and turned to face the whole class.

"I will be leaving for a short while. Today's lesson will be conducted, with my supervision, by what will be your replacement teacher for the period I will be away. Professor Merriweather."

As a whisper of joy from the Gryffindors rippled through the class, a small woman with shinging golden hair, a little snub nose and a tall, pointed hat woven with real daisies and lilies walked out from behind the blackboard. She looked completely ditzy. This was going to be...just great. I mean, if I'm awful at potions with a more than competent teacher, how will I do with her around?

"Right, well, hello class. My name's Professor Merriweather, sooo…um hello students. Oh I alredy said that. Oh my," she burbled, like an unstoppable waterfall of nonsense. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly. He leaned over to her and murmured something in her ear while I hid my smile. He may actually end up throttling her by the end of the lesson.

"Oh yes!" she chirped with realization, "Oh yes, right. Today's lesson. Today we will be making a LURRVE potion. Oh yes boys, dont groan like that. Oh yes."

Merlin. What had Snape gotten us into. She was worse than Trelawney. I tried a pleading look but the git couldn't even meet my eye. The lesson was sure to be a complete disaster.

I was right! Merriweather was an awful potions teacher! She'd forget which bit she was writing on the board and start to write the same bit out again, then fluster and rub it all off. She put the 'dumb' into the stereotypical 'dumb blonde'. Ron and I looked at each other and he raised one fire-red eyebrow, mischievously. Right! She was _dumb!_We could have some serious fun with this one. If Snape caught our cheeky glances, he didn't say a word about it.

Innocently and with absolute sincerity, I put my hand up, "Miss! They're gone!" I was rather pleased with my acting skills, if I do say so myself.

"What dear? Pray tell what have gone? Where to?" she blustered, looking all around her.

"The brains! The ones you needed for the recipe. You just had them out on your desk and now they're gone!" I sounded sincere enough that she believed me though I only just had my giggles under control. Everyone apart from Ron and Snape looked bemused, whilst the exceptions, my best friend and my teacher looked on in warning and excitement respectively.

"My brains?" she whispered worriedly. Her thumbs twiddled and she said loudly, "My brains are lost? Right children I need your help finding my brains!"

By now the whole class was hooting uproariously. Success. I thought I even saw Snape's upper lip twitch, but that might have been my imagination. Meanwhile Merriweather was throwing cupboard doors open and pulling out drawers, sending random ingredients flying everywhere.

Choking with uncontainable laughter, Ron said, "Maybe, maybe they're with your marbles miss? The ones we need for the potion"

Merriweather turned even paler and her hands rushed to her face. It was absolutely hilarious. Even Hermione was crying with laughter and that surprised me because Hermione usually had the upmost of respect for teachers. Oh well. I guess you have to draw the line somewhere.

"Oh no. Not the marbles too. I've lost my brains _and _my marbles! What shall I do? Professor Snape? Children?"

Snape went to open his mouth but before he had time to say anything, I shouted out, over the laughter,

"What about looking in the common sense drawers?"

"Ah yes, I hadn't thought of using common sense. Now where are they?" Merriweather was absolutely priceless. I put my hand up again, (even though it was hard because my body was racked with spasms of hysterics) to continue but Snape's voice blasted through the room. He looked livid and pointed a shaking finger at me.

"ENOUGH!" he was shaking with what was most probably anger, and suddenly it didn't seem quite so funny anymore, "_Professor _Merriweather, need I remind you that this potion requires neither _brains_ nor _marbles_ which is rather fortunate for some," he finished, staring pointedly at me. Git.

"Also, Potter, you will see me this evening for detention due to your blatant and inexcusable wasting of class time," he said in a dangerously low voice, "Thirty points from Gryffindor."

I sat there open-mouthed. Dumbstruck. Where did that all come from? He hadn't looked so disgustedly at me in ages. We were only having a bit of harmless fun. I made my potion in sullen silence, occasionally attempting to accidentally-on-purpose flick the viscous fluid at the grouchy professor. Merriweather on the other hand seemed to be recovering and had turned a lot calmer. After a few weeks with us she'd be as tough as old boots. We had to get our fun while we could.

* * *

Throughout the rest of the day, I felt particularly odd. It was as if someone had pressed a rewind button in my head. At random intervals memories kept pushing themselves to the front of my consciousness, memories I thought had been repressed, stamped out by sheer determination. During lunch I remembered a time, years ago now, that I felt a very familiar feeling of rejection.

We were best friends, me and Greg Hall, the very best of friends. I loved him so much, because he didn't listen to anyone apart from me, especially not Dudlet Dursley. Well, that's what I thought. I must have been around six or seven at the time. If I had my diaries I could remember but they're under the floorboards at Privet Drive. Anyway, like I said, we were so close we were like Siamese twins. We did everything together, at school that is, because the Dursleys never allowed me to bring anyone home. They didn't even really want people knowing I existed _before_ they found out about my magic. One day I came into school with a black eye and Greg couldn't believe it. He didn't understand of course but he was angry that I didn't tell him where I'd got it, in the self-righteous way that only little boys have of being angry. It would all have been fine, because eventually black eyes do fade, if Dudley hadn't opened his big, fat gob. He told Greg that I had a deadly, infectious disease and that if anyone touched me, they would turn black and blue, then die. Greg, being a young boy, believed him, or was bullied into believing him. I never found out which. The point was that he left me, avoided me; even hit me with stones when Dudley started _that_ phase. Just like everyone else. I was crushed, and I didn't stop crying for nights on end. But I survived somehow, and I think that's part of what made me so tough.

I didn't feel that tough that day. A solitary tear slid into my Sheppard's pie and Ron put his arm comfortingly around my shoulder. Hermione stroked my hand. They knew I had some things I couldn't tell them and they usually comforted me without the need of words. Wiping my eyes, I sat up. There was no use in crying over spilt love potion. I'd just have to be a big girl. There were bigger and far more important things to worry about than detention with Snape. Sirius had sent an owl. He needed our help.

_A/N: Oh and I've broken up for the Christmas holidays! :) So updates may or may not be less regular. I'm looking forward to lots of xmas parties so please dont lose faith/interest. Merry Christmas xxxxxxxx_


	5. Mission

Mission - Snape's POV

**_MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE GUYS :)_**

_A/N:_ **Adaptive, really sorry that I published this one without your notes, just didn't want people to forge abot it. **_In advance i'm so sorry if you don't like this chapter. I don't particularly because it was SO HARD to write but I think it's helped me get into Snape's **mind** a little better. Please please please PLEASE review. Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? Love ya, Lolly (who else would it be?) xxxx_

My bags are packed. There's nothing in these rooms to tie me to them, practically nothing in the castle I would miss. The lack of Dumbledore's security will of course be my main concern, especially when I am on the move, with nothing more to protect me than my own skill at magic. I also feel something, deep down in my being that unsettles me, it's a strange sense of something like foreboding and it worries me.

I surveyed my office detachedly, coldly. A few books remained on one shelf but they would survive until I returned. They weren't of any importance. My fingers caressed the cracked leather of the green sofa, thinking back to those nights she had sat there after finishing her tasks. It had astounded me, especially after she'd injured herself. Though I hasten to add that it was through her own stupidity. It baffled me, the fact that she stayed. Why should she want to stay here rather than visit Wesley and Granger? She intrigued me, and there was something mysterious about her, as if there was always more to her than she was letting you see, especially with her magic. Therefore, I had let it continue, Stephanie had sat in my office for approximately ten minutes after each detention and I would answer her seemingly mundane questions, then she would slip back to her common room. Now and again I tried to slip in one about her family and her upbringing but she snapped shut, like an oyster, refusing to give me its pearl. However, one day perhaps she will trust me enough to reveal her secrets to me.

Occasionally when she sits there, I think of her arrogant wretch of a father, and her brilliant, beautiful mother, and I feel a mixture of hatred and admiration mixed with feelings I do not dare to acknowledge. I know, also, that the more time I spend with her, the stronger these feelings get. Mostly. I feel my repulsion at the fact she is flesh and blood of James Potter slipping away by the day. As time goes on I'm realizing that she is not made from two halves of two wholes, but she is an entire being all her own.

I must clear my thoughts if I am to be prepared for this mission. It will not be hard nor taxing but it has been so long since I have been out of the castle walls. Exhilaration and excitement comes to me in waves, followed by fear and a cold sweat of dread. I'm going to be collecting ingredients for a potion that is both complicated and extremely valuable. The creatures from which I must extract various fluids and body parts are some of the most dangerous. However, Dumbledore would not have assigned me the task if I was not desperate for it. I need to get away from her before I become completely obsessed with finding out more about her.

A small, timid knock came from the door and my heart beat increased by approximately two beats per minute. I scolded myself, I'm not a foolish infatuated student I reminded myself. _She__ may be, though,_ my subconscious informed me slyly.

"Enter," I said, whilst ridding my brain of pointless musings.

Oh dear Merlin. Her eyes were red, bloodshot and puffy, her cheeks stained with blotches of mulberry. _Yet somehow she is still extremely attractive_, was a thought I pushed aside with admirable speed. Grief is something I cannot cope with in others, especially when I feel guilt at its cause. Though why should she be this upset? It's only one detention, nothing particularly sickening, just some cauldron scraping. There must be some underlying aspect to her grief. She tottered over to the cauldrons as another clear drop ran down her face. I couldn't deal with this.

"Stephanie. Stop," I said, knowing that this path would lead to either her eternal hatred or a better understanding between us, "Sit down."

She looked at me confusedly, worriedly, then sat down opposite myself. This wasn't good. The strangest sense of déjà vu settled over the scene and I realised that this was a similar setting to the night when she spilled out a little of her soul to me. The night she told me why she loves flying.

For some reason, I expected her to start speaking, to freely tell me why she was so distraught. When she didn't, I was irritated, and the tension in the air made me harsh.

"Hmm?" I asked, "Why have you come here bawling like an infant. I thought you were tougher than this, Miss Potter? Detentions in the past have not quashed your spirit."

Her eyes flashed to mine and I saw the hurt and confusion in them. Damn. My temperament has never been the best for dealing with delicate situations. She took a shuddering breath, then looked up at me through dark, wet eyelashes.

"Sir, it's not the detention. I know I behaved badly in class. It's not because of you," she said. I would have believed her if she her voice hadn't broken on the word _you_. She was clearly upset that I had lost my temper earlier, but I could tell there was some larger problem.

"Well Miss Potter, your behaviour towards Professor Merriweather was unacceptable. She's a highly trained professional." It was hard to keep a straight face while saying this because that woman drove me to my limit. Merriweather was _such_ a fool.

"Yes sir. I'm sorry," she said quietly. Yes, she did look very sorry indeed though I doubted whether it had all that much to do with Merriweather. It didn't take a genius to work out that she was upset.

"There's something else troubling you though isn't there?" she went to correct me, but I stopped her with a look, "If it prevents you from doing my detention then you need to tell me." I attempted to soften my voice. It was hard, I hadn't felt compassion for a student for a long time.

"Well," she whispered, "It's a family member. And they need my help. They can't go to hospital and I need to send them some healing potions."

This was an outcome I hadn't been expecting, Why on earth should they not be able to obtain medical help? Something was not right here, it was clear in her eyes that that wasn't the whole truth. She looked at me pleadingly and continued without letting me speak.

"If we hadn't…I mean, if I hadn't come to know you better recently this would have been so easy. I would have just stolen the ingredients and brewed the potion myself."

My eyebrow raised a centimeter and she looked suitably cowed, though her emerald eyes twinkled a little as if she thought that would have been all to easy. I tried not to feel angry that she felt it would have been simple to steal from me... and failed. Stephanie had stopped crying now and her face had returned to its normal colour, indeed she looked rather more perky.

"And now?" I asked in a low voice. If she was planning to steal something now, she'd made a foolish decision to tell me. My cupboards would have double the security, not even a fourth year witch of Granger's ability would be able to crack it.

"Now I couldn't. Which is why, Professor, I need your help. Please, you must have spare stores of Skele-Gro and a fever reducing draught? I'm willing to pay, or…well I'd do anything for them."

Her eyes skimmed up and down. Stephanie had turned a pinkish colour in her cheeks. Asking for these took a lot of courage, pleading with one such as I was probably the last thing the girl wanted to do. She must truly love whomever they were for. I weighed the decisions in my head. There was next to no harm you could do with a Skele-Gro and a fever reducing draught so I didn't see a reason not to give her what she wanted. _Plus, _whispered the evil little voice in my subconscious, _she did say she' do __anything__ for them_.

"Fine, though I require no _payment_ and resent the implication," I said and it was as if someone had turned on a light inside her. Stephanie's mouth stretched wide and her grin went from ear to ear. She rose from her seat and rushed round the desk. Her arms were wrapped around my shoulders before I'd realised what was happening.

"Thankyou," she whispered, her breath hot on my neck. As if realizing she had just hugged a dragon, she jumped back and turned so red, even Weasley would be proud.

"Sorry," she said, abashed and she put her head in her hands. I gulped surreptitiously and just shook my head, trying to tell her that she needn't be. How long had it been since someone had embraced me like that? Perhaps a lifetime.

I slipped out of my office to procure her the necessary potions when a thought occurred to me. It was strange that she had not specified a name. Her only living relatives were Lily's sister and her family. Petrella Dodley? Ahh, Petunia that was it. Dodley? No that wasn't right. I rattled around some bottles until I found the spare stash of Skele-Gro I kept for Madam Pomfrey. Dursley! That's their name. As I recall Hagrid was saying something about them being particularly repugnant people. It was strange that she cared so much for them.

With the two vials in my hand, I made my way back to the room. She was sat on my sofa, legs crossed, humming a sweet melody. Her hair tumbled across her eyes but I could see that she lit up again when I brought the bottles in. Placing them on the table I turned to face her. She stood up and went to reach for them but I grabbed her hand to stop her.

"You can have them, Stephanie. I was just a little curious…which Dursley needs them?"

She went white as a sheet and I could tell I'd found the source of the strange request. Her hand started to shake in my grip and her teeth worried nervously at her bottom lip.

"Tell me," I commanded, giving one squeeze to her long fingers then letting go. These were not for the Dursleys.

"Please don't be angry," she pleaded, looking at me with doe eyes. Barely audible she whispered, "S-Sirius."

The room blurred and my head suddenly felt extremely hot. My hands curled up into fists and I went to smash the vials but she was too quick for me. They were already in her hands. Anger and hatred turned the whole room blood-red and I raised my hand to her. I would NEVER give that toerag Black a thing. With considerable force, I grabbed her arm and went to take the bottles by force.

"Please!" she screamed, "Please Professor, please let me have them," there were angry, hurt tears running down her face now, and she sank to her knees so I was holding one arm up. "If you don't, I'll lose the only person…who's always loved me." Her last sentence was horrifically truthful. The vulnerability of seeing her on the floor, stripped of her tough façade cleared my head of any anger.

Kneeling on the floor, I let her go. For a few minutes I breathed heavily and then opened my eyes, all bitterness gone. She sighed in relief and looked at me gratefully, smiling a little.

"Truthfully Professor Snape, I thought your reaction would be about a million times worse," she said ruefully, rising to her knees and sweeping her unruly locks out of her eyes, "I wouldn't have told you at all but I can't lie to you for some reason."

I very nearly lost my composure then, if I was expecting a response from her so soon, that certainly wasn't what I'd had in mind. If I were in her place, in fact no, I would never have been in her place. I was never liked enough to consider asking a teacher for anything.

Stephanie smiled and looked at me as if I was her friend or some other amiable being. It all felt very odd and I could not help picturing what Black would say when he found out that to get these potions, his oldest enemy had to help his goddaughter. It was nearly enough to make me laugh aloud. One thing was sure, he wouldn't be grateful, not to me anyway. That was part of the reason that I hated to give her anything that I had worked hard on, to cure that piece of slime. I realised I was breathing hard again, also that I was still holding her wrist in my hand. I let go hastily but her fingers find mine again and she looked up at me, our eyes locking together.

"Thank you again. You don't know how much it means to me to have some like Sirius in my life. By helping him you've earned…oh I don't know. My eternal gratitude!" she said giggling happily. She was so happy, and it made me jealous. Never in my life had I made someone's eyes light up like that. I envied Black his freedom also and the devotion this girl was willing to give to him. It was so painfully clear that she would give anything, perhaps even her own life for him. Would ever I be able to claim that someone would do that for me? I doubted it and a sense of melancholy passed over.

We stood and the atmosphere in the room was palpably awkward. What was there to say? I was about to tell her she could leave if she wanted when she broke the silence.

"Professor, wherever you're going away to…be careful," she said gently, her eyes looking at the floor. Her feet scuffed the floor and I felt a little irritated in spite of myself, I'd only had those tiles cleaned this morning. Then she brightened and looked up again.

"And hey!" she said more jovially, "Don't you dare leave us with Professor Merriweather for longer than a month. Also it's a pity you'll miss the champion's draw on Saturday…" Stephanie looked at me with those glittering eyes. I could never tell exactly what she was thinking and I was tempted more than once to practice my Occlumency on her. To do so would be inexcusable but still…I hungered for those hidden memories she locked away with such care. She wouldn't be expting it, tapping into her mind would be like giving Granger a C, so simple, yet unjust.

"The task is menial, just a small housekeeping errand," I muttered, lip curling in amusement at her pointless sentimentality. Stephanie still looked a little worried, though mostly tired and relieved. The struggle had been emotionally draining for me, though for her it must have been worse by tenfold. She took a tentative step forward, then wrapped her arms around me again. It was as surprising as half an hour previously. To feel arms wrapped round me that weren't restraining, or threatening but comforting was incredible. It wasn't appropriate though and I regretted catching her when she ran into me during last week. It seemed to have given her some familiarity and I couldn't have that. I couldn't get close to her, that, I knew, would be a fatal move.

Harshly, I unwrapped her arms from around me and turned to go into my study. A lump of emotion built in my throat and I couldn't say anything to her. I was sure she'd mistake my silence for hostility and leave but yet again she surprised me.

"Come back in one piece," she said quietly, then she vacated the room with speed, as if embarrassed.

I shut the door behind me and went over to a particularly comfortable red armchair, clinging to its arms to steady me. What a night. Pouring myself a large measure of whisky, I sat down and rubbed my forehead with rough fingers. It was nearly inconceivable that the cretin Black had escaped, and now I had _helped_ him. How far I have come from the man of a year ago who was murderous with rage at the blaggard's escape. Trying to convince myself that I'd done it out of human decency was pointless, I knew why I'd done it. As a favour for the girl, to earn her gratitude. To have a human who appreciates me. Pathetic, I know but I felt as if I had achieved a very important goal on my way to knowing more about Stephanie.

* * *

When I went to leave in the early morning, when the birds had only recently started singing their irritating harmonies, I found a hastily scrawled note lying on my desk.

**Come back safe and sound,**

**Cos it'll really piss all the Gryffindors off.**

**(**_**If that's not incentive to you, **__**what is?)**_

**Stephanie x**

My immediate instinct was to smell the paper (for reasons unknown) and I brought the slightly yellowed parchment to my face. The scent was one of lilies and orange and sent me back to days spent under the shade of a blossoming tree, in the sunny grounds of this very castle. I folded the note and placed in the innermost pocket of my robe, on the left hand side of my chest. Buttoning my cloak and bidding a wordless farewell to my lifeless rooms, I left Hogwarts to have one of the most frantic and monumental weeks of its long life.


	6. Mythical Creatures

Mythical Monsters

**Snape's POV**

_A/N:Hey guys Merry Christmas and Happy New Year's Eve! This is just a little update to keep you going and they're going to be more regular from now on. Haha on a different note, not sure how longer the 'M' theme can continue :P They're going to have to get more creative or move on to a different letter! Thankyou thankyou thankyou to all my wonderful reviewers, seriously they are REALLY nice to receive, so big hugs and much love to **FlyingOctOpuS, , Kciare and the dark euphie (again, thankyou) **Love you all and i hope you all got what you wanted for christmas_

* * *

The ground on which my tent was pitched was cold, frosty and solid as the mossy rocks surrounding it. Glancing to the moonlit heavens, I thanked Merlin that I would never have to use any of that Muggle apparatus that they laughingly called camping equipment. Ha, tents that were smaller than a Hogwarts cleaning cupboard and they call them _large, family tents_. I stepped into the warm, magical, spacious wizard tent and went the kettle.

I don't normally divulge in soothing, flavoured tea but lemongrass is my favourite. Small luxuries please me as much as the next person, however fearsome and otherworldly I appear to young students. The tea was so hot I could feel my whole body temperature raise slightly as it warmed my me throughout. Sleepily I turned the lights of the tent out and went to my bed. Although not as comfortable as my Hogwarts abode, it was cosy and the tea had made me drowsy. Exhausted, I passed out.

Darkness cloaked me, clung to me. The air was hot and stuffy, making breathing harder than usual. In the nearly silent clearing where I was stationed, my breath and footfalls as I rose from the sleeping quarters seemed unnatural. I had seen a shadow cross the tent outside, on all fours like a dog, but at least twice as large as any Muggle beast. I suspected that this was no ordinary creature, but an animal rarely seen in the life of any wizard, however well-travelled he thought himself. No, this was a being whose every body part was nearly priceless in the potions world. Most precious of all was the venom, a black viscous substance I had only seen in books, worth over 50 Galleons per gram which only remains useful when extracted from a still breathing Sabredor and bottled immediately.

The Sabredor is fearsome creature, similar to the extinct animal, the sabre-tooth however the Sabredor has a coat which is so thick, nearly scaly, that it repels basic magic. It is similar to hte defence mechanism of dragon scale so therefore nearly as dangerous. That is one of the many reasons why the creature is worth so much.

As I donned my cloak and drew my wand from its holster, a sense of dread overcame me and beads of sweat formed on my forehead. This was dangerous. Extremely dangerous and someone (or something) was certainly going to die during this encounter, most possibly me.

The creature could sense me, I knew it as I saw the way its back arched and every little hair on its spine raised slightly. It entered a defensive crouch and turned its great, hulking head towards me. My heart beat so hard the hammering was thunderous, and the Sabredor advanced, keeping low to the ground. With a flick of the wrist I delivered a powerful stunning spell, but the creature was fast, very fast and it rolled out of the way just in time.

The creature jumped to its feet and began a sprint straight towards me. Before I could utter a single word, the beast was upon me, its paws, the size of dinner plates, crushing my chest. I gasped for breath and the Sabredor removed one paw, just to bring it down again with force. It's razor-sharp claws tore into my flesh and the burning sensation was coupled with grief as I heard the ripping of paper.

Anger boiled through me and I jabbed my wand at the beast's throat and uttered the two words which, when coming from the Dark Lord's mouth, have only ever failed once. The creature sank on top of me. With the benefit of hindsight it was not exactly an ingenious thing to kill a 300-pound animal so that it died on top of me.

Surprising even myself, I rolled out from underneath the pressing weight, panting heavily. Without a second to lose I took a small (luckily intact) vial from the right-hand pocket of my innermost robe. I removed both abnormally large, tusk-like teeth from the big cat and decanted the vile-smelling black liquid into the vial. The remains of the beast I could shrink and take back with me to the castle. Selling off half of the Sabredor would certainly earn me a few more Galleons to add to dear old Mummy's inheritance.

The moon shone more brightly now, reflecting the glittering frost which adorned the rocks. Blood soaked my robes, sticking to me unpleasantly and I went to find a pool to wash myself. Entering the forest was a risky business, but with the most dangerous creature in miles dead at my hand, I felt a little safer than usual.

The forest was dark and dense, the trees huddling together as if they could feel the cold. There were a great many pools dotted around but, with the temperature, they were all frozen solid. Cursing my abominable luck, I searched in vain for a fresh spring. Exhausted, cold and uncomfortable I returned to the clearing. There were a few more plant and animal essences that were in short stock at the castle, but nothing that couldn't be an errand for a less skilled servant. Oh, and tonight there would be a great feast at the castle, more extravagant than ever before, and right at this minute, the students would be preparing themselves for the event, straightening uniforms, buffing shoes, practising congratulatory smiles that hid their disappointment. Yes, it would be a busy time in that castle, with warm fires and cosy beds.

I looked scornfully at the bare trees that bore only mistletoe this time of the year and wished I was back in the castle, in the midst of the chaos I normally detested. The cuts on my chest, three parallel, deep scores of red, began to ache violently. They burned white-hot like pokers and each step I took was agony. Pain I could usually handle, this was beyond that. Sabredor claws contain a venom and though I had already treated that with an antidote, it was still more painful than anything I had ever encountered before.

Scraps of yellowing parchment were being tossed by the wind when I entered the clearing and one floated past my ear. Catching it nimbly, which was a hard task as my arms ached from struggling with that Merlin-forsaken animal. The scrap was damp and slightly blurred though the writing was still legible.

_Stephanie x_

That's it, I thought, my wounds are too severe. If I do not seek the medical help from Poppy then they may turn septic, or leave deep, ugly scars. I must return to the castle. Anyway, the headmaster will need me tonight. The Slytherins always tend to get over-boisterous when left to their own devices. Yes, though I was due to be away a month, I have slain the elusive beast and needn't stay in this hell hole any longer. A sense of purpose filled me and within the hour my tent and cases were packed and I was travelling back to Hogwarts.

My line of reasoning had been perfect, flawless, any onlooker would have agreed it was best to go back to seek medical help. They'd never realise what I didn't wish to acknowledge, the true reason behind my return


	7. Mistake

Mistake - Stephanie's POV

_A/N: Happy New Year! Thank you again to all my readers who've stayed with me. This is my first long story so keep the faith, it's a kind of trial and error thing. BIG love to all my reviewers epsecially **the dark euphie, Elfin69 and Grissom's Sister **you guys rock and it makes me so happy when i see that little review message. Love you all and be hoping to hear more from me soon. _

The air in the room was tense, but it was charged as well. Everyone was practically on the edge of their seats, eyes wide, and bodies rigid. From the corner of my eye I could see Cedric, then I turned to look at him full on. He looked incredibly excited, like a little child on Christmas day, right before they get to open their presents. He stroked a hand through his silky hair and turned, catching me staring at him. I think he got the wrong impression because he smiled and winked at me, and then blew a distinctly conspicuous kiss my way.

Hermione was as helpful as ever in these, rather delicate situations. Giggling, she said, "Harry, you _do _know that you've gone bright red, don't you?" There was no doubt that she was the most intelligent witch in our year but sometimes she could be dim.

"Git's still looking your way, y'know," Ron murmured, wearing the same, older-brother look of disgust when he glanced Cedric's way. It was flattering that Ron was so protective but that didn't stop it being extremely irritating as well.

I finished my dinner, feeling full and rather sleepy, when there was a loud knocking at the door. My head span, in the same second that most others did, all pairs of eyes trained on the entrance to the Great Hall. It was generally our experience that when something unexpected knocked on those heavy, oak doors, it's not good news. My mind took me back to that eventful night in first year, when I think we really made our mark as a trio, the night of the cave troll. That was when _most_ professors decided that maybe we weren't the average first years. Although not all of the teachers were so impressed. _"Clearly, not even a cave troll can get the better of the great Harry Potter." _That was his scathing remark he left us with, a real mood-dampener. Still i could never imagine Snape as a flatterer.

Though, looking back on my years, it's probably for the better that someone was there telling me how unworthy I was, to be receiving all that attention. I _knew_ that, obviously, I hadn't done anything wonderful and people wanted my autograph, wanted to look at me, be spoken to by me. It isn't even like I want any of it; my deepest wish is that Ron and I could swap places. I would give anything to be a normal girl, with a normal family, being spectacularly, unnoticeably normal, oh with the slight abnormality of being a witch of course. Snape seemed always to want to keep my head as deflated as possible.

The point is that when those doors creaked open, we were all clearly expecting the worse, most terrifying thing we could imagine. It seemed only right that on this magical, monumental evening, something was going to go wrong. I'm sure there's some sort of theory about that, anything that can go wrong will go wrong. Nevertheless, when our dear Potions master walked through the doors, limping and holding one arm awkwardly, my heartbeat stopped just for one hundredth of a second.

It was irrational, probably a natural response to something you expected to be terrifying, even though it wasn't. Guilt seeped through me but I pushed it away, it was silly to feel guilty for feeling something you couldn't control me. Ron looked incredulously at the injured man as he limped to the Top Table.

"What in the name of Merlin's beard is he doing back? A month he said! I had a month of relaxing in potions planned out. Bloody hell," Ron glowered as he crossed his arms.

"Looks like he's got some pretty serious injuries," I muttered quietly, even though it was silly to say it aloud, it just made the heavy, horrible feeling in my stomach worse.

"Mmm, they do look bad. Reminds me of first year, the limping I mean," Hermione offered. Her eyebrows were knitted together in that truly infuriating way which means she's thinking something through but if you asked her what it was, she'd go all elusive and say, 'oh nothing, nothing.'

Snape looked tired, hurt but otherwise ok. He wasn't bleeding profusely from all orifices, he could walk, presumably talk and his general demeanour was still that of the silent, malevolent teacher. So why was my heart still beating so hard and why was I still scared? Even Ron only looked petulant now, and Hermione thoughtful as usual.

Dumbledore turned away from Snape, as the latter took his place next to Professor Sinistra and banged delicately on a crystal goblet for silence. As the last crystal ring shimmered into the tense air, the Goblet was revealed again. Everyone gasped as the flames burnt now, flickering up from the cup eerily. My stomach clenched and I looked at Cedric again. He was a little paler now, but still looked desperately excited.

From the looks on everyone's faces, it seemed that people would spontaneously combust if Dumbledore drew out the choosing of the names any longer. So I was thankful when he got straight down to it. The dignified wizard stepped forward, swinging beard nearly sweeping the floor and walked straight to the cup. Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman, the two ministry officials looked on in excitement, well Bagman was excited, Crouch looked his miserable self.

Sparks jumped out of the cup as Dumbledore approached, as if the little scarlet emissions wanted nothing more than to be out of the goblet. More and more were emitted until the cup flamed red and a scorched piece of parchment fluttered down into the waiting hand of the headmaster. Hermione squeezed my fingers excitedly, she seemed to be really getting into this.

"The Champion for Beauxbaton's Academy is...Miss Fleur Delacour!" Dumbledore boomed, his fruity voice filling the Hall. The Beauxbats erupted with delight and and one particularly pretty girl flushed red and her covered her face with her hands in delight. Ron smiled happily and looked longingly over at the girl Miss Delacour was hugging. Madame Maxime clapped her hands together and the noise reached its peak. I recognised the girl as being the sister of the little girl who came up to me earlier in the week.

As the cup began to emit red sparks a second time, the noise dropped and you could hear the fizzle of the singed parchment as it gently fluttered down.

"And the Champion for Durmstrang is...Mr Viktor Krum." The large boys at the Slytherin table whooped and cheered, Krum loudest of all. The Quidditch star looked the opposite of the calm cool self he was on a broom. Hermione went red as well, looking over at him and smiling as he high fived a well-built Durmstrang boy.

And then there was only one more name to be called. The Hogwarts Champion. A student for whom eternal glory would not be such a distant dream, but a very real possibility. I looked over to the Hufflepuffs and saw Cedric being surrounded by a gaggle of girls, all trying to hold some part of him, presumably whispering words of luck. I waited with baited breath for the feeling of jealousy to come to me. The Dumbledore was speaking for the final time as the goblet spat out its third and final name.

"And the third and final TriWizard Champion for Hogwarts is...Mr Cedric Diggory!" Dumbledore bellowed happily. I yelled as loud as I could and hugged Hermione tightly, dating a champion felt pretty damned good. There were obviously some disappointed faces in the crowd, not least Fred and George who still looked a little stubbly around the mouth, those magical beards were hard to shave off apparently. Everyone was in the midst of congratulations and commiserations when someone shouted out a surprised exclamation. My head turned to the goblet as did everyone elses.

To our amazement, it was turning red. A deep, unexpected crimson. As hundreds of heads looked on in disbelief, the cup sputtered and a fourth piece of paper drifted slowly down into the bewildered grasp of Dumbledore. He looked totally dumbstruck and his wrinkly forehead grew even more so as he read the little piece of parchment. I looked at Ron, Hermione and Neville and I could see my own confusion mirrored on their faces.

"Harry Potter," came the barely audible whisper from the front of the Hall. Of course it didn't register at the time. I remember wondering why Hermione was looking at me so strangely. Ron's face had darkened, like when a cloud passes over the sun. People began to point and whisper, antagonized.

"Harry Potter," Dumbledore said, louder this time. My heart jolted and I looked up at him. As his pale blue eyes locked onto mine I shook my head in blatant disbelief. All the staff were staring at me as well. Cedric had turned pale white and was questioning me with his beautiful eyes.

"HARRY POTTER!" the headmaster bellowed and Hermione shoved my back hard, sending me stumbling forward. With shaking legs I walked up to the front of the hall, followed by every pair of eyes, people still whispering and pointing. Once I was standing by the podium, with the other champions, the headmaster looked me straight in the eyes and I felt his gaze pierce me. Without another word, he took me by the shoulder and guided me out of the hall into the trophy room, followed by the three champions, Bagman, Crouch, the other heads of schools and an assortment of teachers including Snape.

Once we were all gathered around, Dumbledore took me roughly by both shoulders, shaking me and looking at me intensely.

"Did you put your name in the goblet, Harry?" he asked me, eyes roaming my face, as if checking for any trace of a lie.

Angrily, I shook him off. This was ridiculous. "Of course not professor!" I shot back angrily, my hands clenching into fists. Oh yeah, like I'd be stupid enough to try and trick a magical artefact. I thought Dumbledore knew me better. In the background there was a confused babble of noise, everyone making their thoughts heard, some more loudly than others. Bagman was irritatingly cheerful, kept saying how good it was to have a change in life and he seemed oddly delighted that I'd been picked.

Dumbledore looked at me closely, then nodded. Snape walked over stiffly and whispered something in the headmaster's ear and they looked at me then Dumbledore nodded at him. I felt my face going bright red, it was embarrassing having hundreds of people looking at you and talking about you but when people do it right before your eyes it's a different matter.

"So St- Miss Potter, you did not put your name into the Goblet of Fire, not that I believe for a moment you have the magical ability?" Snape drawled, his eyes trailing over me. I shivered then shook my head firmly. It was all quite ridiculous and I was glad that someone was on my side, even if he did it in a rather negative way.

"As I suspected," Snape continued, "I believe, headmaster, that this is the work of a far more powerful wizard than she."

From the shadows emerged Moody, backing Snape up, telling all how only a superbly strong charm would have been able to confuse the goblet into accepting a name from a fourth school. At that very moment Karkaroff stepped forward, looking darker than thunder and livid with anger.

"You seem to have thought all of this through, Mad-Eye," he said accusingly, coming nose to nose with the quirky Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Moody retorted scathingly that it was his job to think as Dark wizards do, as Karkaroff ought to remember. That changed the Russian's tune and he squared up to Moody, drawing his wand from the inner pocket of his thick, winter robe. Sparks flew from the tip and I drew backwards in fright, straight into Professor Snape. Though it might have been my imagination, I thought I could feel an arm begin to pressed against my side. Before I could decide whether I was hallucinating or not, Dumbledore broke up the nearly-duel and any imagined physical presence was gone and Snape had vanished to the headmaster's side.

Briefly, Mr Crouch explained that there would be three surprise trials and the first would test our daring. That was infuriatingly vague and my head was spinning. None of this made sense, who would put my name in the goblet? Who hated me so much that they would trick a powerful magical object to put me through deadly tasks? My head spun and I felt so tired from the whole experience that I wobbled and nearly fell.

A strong, male hand caught and steadied me. I looked up and Cedric was looking down at me, his lovely brown eyes confused and he lead me out of the room, back towards the great hall. He was pulling me along so fast that I nearly stumbled twice and had to cling to him.

When we were near the entrance to the hall and sufficiently alone, he drew cool fingers down my cheek and smiled his widest smile.

"You should have told me, I would have helped you do it. I think it's incredible," he whispered, mouth close to my ear, blowing warm breath and tickling it. He smiled and kissed my cheek. I pulled away, irritated and exhausted, not in the mood for another interrogation.

"Cedric, I didn't put my name in the cup and more fool you for thinking I could," I said crossly and he went to interrupt but I stopped him by saying, "Look, I'm tired and I need to go to bed and get my head around this. Goodnight Cedric."

I turned to leave but he spun me round by the wrist and kissed me full on the lips, whispering sweetly, "Goodnight, sorry." Then he left, still looking as happy as a little puppy, positively wagging his tail.

When I reached the common room I could here there was a great commotion going on behind the portrait. I couldn't understand it until I realised it was for me. Again. There was cheering and whooping and something like wizard party poppers when I entered the room. It was all too much and the scar on my forehead seared, then a dull ache started in my temple.

It was Hermione who saved me, ten minutes into the impromptu party. She spotted that I wasn't feeling well and took my hand, saying in a very McGonagall-like voice that she thought I'd had quite enough for one night and should be getting to bed, after all I needed my sleep. Ron was notable only by his absence and I saw in my mind's eye his horrified face again when Dumbledore called out my name. Surely not? Surely Ron couldn't believe I'd done something like that and not told him.

When we were safely locked away in the dormitory, Hermione took one look at my face and sat me down next to her on the bed. She told me how Ron had looked sourer than milk gone off, storming off to bed without a word.

"I know you didn't put your name in the goblet Harry, it's obvious. But Ron's always been...touchier about these subjects, you know?" she was trying her hardest to be diplomatic but I was still irritated.

"Subjects? You mean me having yet another thing happen to me that I _never asked for? _That I _don't want!_" I said, exasperatedly. Sighing I turned and said goodnight to her. She promised we'd talk in the morning but I really didn't hear exactly what she was saying.

As I drifted into a troubled sleep, I remembered the way Professor Sinistra simpered over Snape when he sat down at top table earlier. A strange feeling washed over me, and the scene of her patting his good arm was tinted with an emerald green colour.

_A/N: Oooh I've got a whole lot of work I need to do in these coming weeks so updates might not be as regular. What do you think to redoing this chapter from Snape's POV as well? Loveyou xxx_


	8. MistakeSnape's POV

Mistake - Snape's POV

_A/N: Guys I love love love LOVE you all, especially my reviewers and especially people who think this story is good enough to go into some communites and to be put on your alerts and favourites. Ok so basically this is just the previosu chapter but from Snape's point of view for all you Sev-lovers and Cedric-haters cos we've got some anti-Ced feelings here. Not to worry a new chapter will be posted soon where soemthing actually HAPPENS :O or nearly happens ;) I'm hoping for a long next chapter so stay with me folks and happy new year. _

_Oh and one last thing (sorry, people who dont like this bit can always skip through the italics) MASSIVE LOVE AND COOKIES TO the loyal reviewers **C. Khafre, Elfin69 and the dark euphie!**_

The great oak doors of the main hall were trickier to open with one hand and it took me three attempts. One push jarred my injured side and a spasm of pain racked my body. I should have thought this plan through and appeared after dinner. Pomfrey would have been free then. Well, I thought, you've come this far. With more courage than I'd previously thought it needed, I walked into the great hall.

The faces of the various idiots and know-it-alls would have been hilarious, was it not I who had inspired their brainless looks of relief. They had clearly thought some second, hideous cave troll would come storming through, I thought to myself, as I strolled to the professor's table. Though some may have dared to cheek me by saying that a troll _did _walk through the doors. I found my gaze sweeping the room, unconsciously searching the Gryffindor table for a black head of hair and glittering emerald eyes.

When my eyes acquired their target, they did a double take. Though most around her, including the Weasley idiot, looked highly petulant at my early return, her eyes still held the wide glaze of fear. Fear _of _me? Maybe in her first year, but the girl had developed a backbone since and was more than capable of standing up to me. No, there must be another reason, but I couldn't fathom what.

The headmaster looked pleasantly cheerful...the constants of this life never change. Dumbledore greeted me graciously, asking if the task went well and offering his congratulations that I had acquired the venom so rapidly. I took my usual seat next to Aurora and she exclaimed in shock when she saw the rips on my robe.

"Oh Severus!" she cried, patting my injured arm firmly. The pain was excruciating but not nearly as awful as listening to her babbling.

"Yes Aurora?" I said, in what I hoped was a tone that discouraged further conversation.

"Well you look so pale and ragged, awful!" Obviously not. She went on, "Gosh, I thought you were a disliked teacher but things have been CHAOS without you, that Merriweather is incompetent. Nice lass, yes, but terribly ditzy and wouldn't you know it, she can talk a hind leg off a donkey, both in fact. Yes, just the other day..."

I let her meaningless torrent wash over me and scanned the room once more. There Stephanie was, still looking as if she'd had a fright, body tense and arms wrapped around her chest. The Granger girl was looking thoughtful and the Weasley boy was making rude gestures towards the Hufflepuff table. My gaze followed the red-head's middle digit and I found myself staring at a doe-eyed Diggory. He was gazing at...at Stephanie. How odd. I'd seen them together but never thought there was anything _special_ between them.

"...And that's when the cauldron EXPLODED!" Professor Sinistra finished with a flourish and a rather over-zealous hand gesture. I had forgotten she'd still been speaking and I was saved from having to make an appropriate response by Dumbledore's sharp tap of fork on crystal goblet.

The unveiling of the goblet was impressive, its blue flame flickered menacingly, sparks licking the sides of the cup. The results of the draw were predictable, almost too easy, I should have put some money on them. Delacour, Krum, Diggory. As the whole ceremony was wrapping up and the Triwizard champions were coming to shake Dumbledore's hands, there was a shout from a first year, an exclamation of wonder.

The cup's flames had turned red for a fourth time. I nearly rose from my seat to take a closer look, however seeing the look of confusion on the headmaster's face, thought it better that _he_ investigated, if the most powerful wizard in this building was stumped, no one else had much hope. To the surprise of the whole room, a fourth singed piece of parchment was blown from the cup and sashayed through the air, before being caught in Dumbledore's outstretched hand. He read the piece of parchment then, very quietly, uttered a name.

"Harry Potter," he whispered, and my heart stopped in my chest. Who? Who'd entered her in the cup, and why. As he repeated the name, louder this time, I turned to look (as most did) at the girl herself. She was clueless, her expression vague and confused. When the headmaster bellowed her name, Granger had the sense to give Stephanie a shove. The girl looked scared, scared and bewildered, her hands shaking as she walked up to the podium, where all the other contestants stood.

The headmaster took her by the shoulder and led her into the tropy room. I stood and followed them. This was a bad sign, people have died in this tournament and now she, youngest and most inexperienced would have to compete with people who had nearly twice the magical knowledge she did.

As I entered the room I heard her answer clearly, "No!" and look Dumbledore right in the eye, he'd presumably asked her the question on everyone's minds. There was no doubt that she was telling the truth, I could see it in her indignant expression, and told the headmaster exactly what I thought. I asked her outright as well, remembering something she'd told me about an inability to deceive me.

"So St-," I stumbled on her name, thinking it better to ask this formally, "Miss Potter, you did not put your name into the Goblet of Fire, not that I believe for a moment that you have the magical ability?" This wasn't exactly true, I could tell she had true magical power inside her by her aura. She shook her head defiantly and crossed her arms. It was humorous, she didn't realise it but she'd made herself look like a petulant child.

"As I suspected, "I continued, "I believe, headmaster, that this is the work of a far more powerful wizard than she."

Stephanie looked a little more content, but her fists were still clenched, and it was only when Mad-Eye provided me with some back up that I felt sure I wouldn't be at risk of another feeble attack from my fiery student. And then Moody made a statement that caused Karkaroff to look as if he wanted to curse the false-eyed wizard to the depths of hell.

"It was once my job to think as Dark wizards do, as you ought to remember Karkaroff," Moody had retorted, while the Russian drew his wand and pointed it at the ex-Auror's temple, deep-set eyes dark as thunder. That was not appreciated and sparks started to fly both figuratively and literally. In my eyes, it was a pointless battle, Moody has great skill in duelling and Karkaroff is weak, Mad-Eye would have (pardon the vulgar colloquialness) had him for breakfast. As I watched with detached amusement, I felt someone press against me; it was Stephanie and she was afraid. Instinctively I put my arm around her waist, pressing her closer to me, only to snatch it back a second later and rush to Dumbledore's aid.

What was I doing? She's a student, for the love of Merlin. I could just imagine the Daily Prophet's headline, 'PROFESSOR SACKED FOR...' No, I couldn't even bring myself to think it. People can look at any scene and misinterpret these days, there's no reason to exacerbate the situation. Sometimes I think about what would have happened if Malfoy had walked past the day I caught her in the Potions corridor, his father, school governor Lucius Malfoy is not a forgiving man.

Later that evening, when I was walking back to the dungeons, from the corner of my eye I caught Diggory talking to her, stroking her cheek, kissing her. Something akin to protection, mixed with a stronger feeling kicked in and I wanted to curse the golden haired boy. Thinking that through, it probably wasn't fair, morally correct or even legal so I thought better of it and went to see Poppy in the hospitable wing.

* * *

When my wounds were dressed and I was back in my rooms, I let myself drop into my favourite armchair and poured myself a glass of Firewhisky. Get a grip Severus, she's the spawn of the man you couldn't be happier to see dead and the Mudblood bitch, I told myself. So why is she so interesting, no more than that, she's intriguing. I find myself totally content when around her, and find her conversation stimulating, though it does not rank high above the average ten year olds in intelligence.

I vowed to myself that we would maintain a purely teacher-pupil relationship from this moment onwards. I would mock and criticise her and she would resent and hate me. It felt as if I was betraying something we had built up, but this couldn't go any further. I had to stop wherever this may be leading, because I'd finally acknowledged that I felt something for her, and ignorance _was _bliss. Now though, I've got to set things back to the way they were.

_A/N: If you're leaving a review anyway (PLEASE do, you'll earn my eternal gratitude) why not drop in some of your new year's resolutions, they should be interesting :D xxxx _

_ps. im sorry if they're are any mistakes in this, i didn't read it back :P_


	9. Apologies

Apologies-Steph's POV

_A/N: Whoop! Glad I've finished this update, it was a hard one to write as I lost my creative mojo :'( On the other hand I've been enjoying the snow all week so haven't put in quite as much effort. Oh yeah, little more swearing in this chap, I've got to earn the M rating somehow :L Oh and if you're getting antsy for a quick fill of Snarry or some lemon, don't expect it from this fic, I'm thinking of writing a lemon after this though. Cookies, hugs and snowmen to my lovely reviewers **, Adaptive, the dark euphie and pshycocitten **(love the name) And much love also to everyone who put this on their alerts. _

When I woke up the next morning, for a moment I forgot everything that had happened the previous night. I was just putting on my pants when it came crashing down on me. I was a Triwizard tournament contestant, and I was going to have to take part in crazy events, the first of which would test our _daring_. Well I guess that isn't too bad, at least they're not testing how long we can last not being eaten by some giant monster...unless _that's_ what they mean by daring.

I shook my head in disbelief. This couldn't be happening, why do things always go tits up for me. Hermione looked over, saw my (presumably angry) expression and sat me down on the bed again.

"Umm Harry, I don't think you should go down just yet..." Hermione said hesitantly, looking shifty.

"Why?" I said, suspicious now.

"Well, it's just that Ron's down in the common room and I think you should just give him some time to come to ter-"

"_I _should give _him _time?! Oh yes, because he really needs to come to terms with the fact that I will have to face death at least three times this year, should be a new record even for me!" I spewed out angrily, face turning redder.

"Shut up! Shut up for a second and listen Harry..." Hermione shouted suddenly. When she attracted the attention of the other girls she continued in a lower voice, "Look I _know_ that you must be scared and I _know _that you can't understand why Ron won't talk to you but try some empathy. Imagine if he was the famous one, no don't interrupt, yes you'd be glad to be normal but imagine growing up in someone else's shadow, always being the faithful side-kick, the loyal best friend. Just imagine, okay?"

Wow. I'd not been expecting _that_ from Hermione. She was the peacemaker and, if I'm being honest, not as close to me as Ron, but I guess in a way she's right. Rant over, she hauled me off the bed and put her arm around me, something she didn't often do.

"Now come on, let's go get some breakfast. I need it, that was exhausting," she said, giggling and pulling me a long with her.

Ron wasn't present in the common room, nor at breakfast. Hermione feebly put in that it might just have been awkward timing, but I knew. Maybe avoidance was best anyway, I really didn't want a confrontation, not today, and I couldn't deal with that on top of all the confusion and embarrassment

Checking the timetable, I realised that we had Potions first lesson and waited for the sinking feeling of dread. Strangely, I was still waiting for it when we were walking down to the dungeons.

Predictably Malfoy had seized the opportunity to make me look like an idiot by wearing bright flashing badges with 'Potter Stinks' on them. Wow, they were all wearing them...how mature. I tried my best to ignore him but the bastard would not stop. Irritating earned a new meaning and it called for some serious reaction.

It probably wasn't the most sensible thing to do but when that little git called me a 'media whore' for the fifteenth time I decided enough was enough, someone had to teach him a lesson. I spun round, cursing him, nothing major just a little spell to teach him a lesson. In the very same second two really inconvenient things happen, firstly he aimed a curse at me too and secondly, Snape walked around the corner with an expression darker than the closet under the stairs.

Unluckily my efforts were for nothing as I obviously hadn't aimed very well, misfiring and hitting Goyle instead. I braced myself for Malfoy's curse but when nothing happened I opened my eyes and checked myself up and down. Nothing. Then Hermione began to wail because her teeth had protruded way below her bottom lip, then past her chin.

"You GIT!" Ron bellowed at Malfoy, during the exact same moment Snape yelled, "POTTER!" His voice was strained and had a cold note in it that I hadn't heard in months. Something had changed. Immediately he sent Goyle to the hospital wing, and then he turned to go into the classroom.

"What about Hermione?" I burst out, indignantly, putting my arm around her.

"Why?" Snape asked, "Is something wrong?" The Slytherins laughed their stupid, stinking heads off at _that _one and Hermione fled, tears running down her disfigured face. Ron and I reacted practically in the same second with a rather colourful chain of expletives which, suffice to say, Snape was none too pleased with. He went varying colours of the rainbow which was temporarily funny until he informed us of the detentions we'd be serving.

Something was different with the way he looked at me today, as if he was trying to spend as little time possible doing just that; looking at me. Sure, he was angry with me for calling him, well I won't say exactly but some of them _may _have rhymed with trucker and bunt. Still, I couldn't think why he wouldn't look at me properly. He never usually past up the opportunity to look down his nose at me.

Ron and I exchanged looks of disgust at our upcoming detentions, though I suspected mine wasn't quite as disgusted as it would have been a year ago. Then, seeming to remember the previous night's events, his face went blank and he refused to look at me. What was everyone's problem?!

Potions was a complete and utter disaster! Snape, for whatever reason, was earning the names we called him and being generally git-like. Ok, so maybe my potion wasn't the exact colour of putrid, slime green but it was close enough, closer than Malfoy's attempt anyhow, but Snape had the audacity to take away ten house points from Gryffindor due to '_lack of effort'_! And when I so kindly suggested that Malfoy's had gone bright orange, he threatened to take away another twenty for insolence.

By the middle of the lesson, I was so thoroughly pissed off, that I wanted to hit him again, but hard, in his stupid, crooked nose. How dare he treat me like this again? You know, I must have been really stupid to think he'd changed and I must've been even crazier to have had...those kinds of dreams about him. Bloody overactive teenage imagination.

When my blood was at boiling point (I think if I'd been madder, I would have had steam coming out of my ears) Colin Creevey, of all people, rescued me. The timid boy stuttered that I would have to leave to attend the Weighing of the Wands for the Champions. Snape did not like that and made it known, directing his anger at me.

I felt like asking him what the hell was wrong. If he was a woman I would blame Mother Nature, time of the month and all, but he didn't even have that excuse. He was just being obnoxious. While we were walking to meet the other champions, Creevey and I, we bumped into a middle-aged blonde woman. She had shoulder-length curly hair, long scarlet nails and many glittering brooches. Quick as a flash she pushed my fringe up and inhaled.

"Harry Potter," the strange woman breathed, looking at my scar in awe.

"Can I help you?" I said, slapping her hand off my head. Creevey told me, stammering that the others were in the door just ahead and promptly left.

"If you'd just come with me a second dearie, if you wouldn't mind answering a few questions," she said in a sickly sweet voice. Before I could tell her where she could stuff her questions, rude old bag, she'd dragged me into a broom closet. The tiny space stopped my heart, and then my breathing quickened until I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Are you alright?" she said, though I couldn't hear any real concern in her voice, only curiosity.

"Just don't like small spaces," I whispered, trying desperately to control myself, not to seem like some lunatic.

With no regard to my condition, she rattled off question after question, about my parents, my friends, _Cedric!_ I gave her no clear answers, just monotones; I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. Yet while I said nothing her weird, floaty quill made notes all by itself. When I looked over at the pad to see what it'd been noting I almost shrieked. It had been scribbling the biggest load of boll- nonsense that you could imagine. Apparently my sparkling eyes were haunted by the demons of my past yet when you looked closer, there was the twinkling of a first romance reflected in my emerald... She snatched her pad off me, while the lime green quill carried on scribbling.

"Now dear come on, let's talk about subjects, who..."

Before she could finish her question, the door swung open and she was knocked off her crate. Silently thanking whoever it was, I made a dash for it, nipping past her and through the door. I let my breathing steady again, now I was back in the open and looked up at my saviour. Dumbledore smiled down at me with twinkling eyes and led me to the right room.

Cedric, Viktor and Fleur were already there, standing around the room with various looks of impatience. Mr. Ollivander was present was well, looking a little more worse for wear than when I'd seen him in my first year. Cedric walked over and gave me a quick hug, it was nice, but I wasn't really in the mood for his lovey-dovey antics. The Snape problem was irritating me and the closet had unsettled me.

The weighing was actually pretty interesting; I found out that Delacour's wand contains a hair from her grandmother, who was a Veela. I made a mental note to tell Ron, then mentally scratched it out when I realised he still wasn't talking to me. Cedric's has a unicorn-tail hair and Krum's a dragon heartstring which were both suitable, Cedric; beautiful and gentle as a unicorn and Krum; strong and cunning as a dragon, well cunning on the Quidditch pitch. When Ollivander came round to me, he needed very little time, as he had sold me the wand and it had taken such a long time to choose me, it stuck in his memory as well as mine. Oh, plus the fact that the other phoenix feather, from the same bird is in the wand of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Tactfully, he didn't mention that part.

They needed a photo for the Daily Prophet, so I went and stood at the back, next to Cedric. When the man was about to take the picture, someone burst through the door, shrieking. It was the Skeeter woman. She insisted that I be at the front of the picture and promptly seated me next to Fleur, who looked at my hair and robes with poorly disguised disgust.

After all that I really needed to clear my head, so instead of going to History of Magic, I decided to go up to the Owlery and see if Hedwig was back from last night's trip; I'd sent her to Sirius with a letter explaining that I was now the fourth Triwizard champion.

On the way, I heard footsteps coming towards me from down the corridor. I looked for places to hide but there were none, just full classrooms. The footsteps were getting louder so I tried to act casual, as if there were no reason why I shouldn't be in lessons. From the corner of my eye, I looked up and clocked the advancing black figure of my grumpy potions master. His head was down and when he looked up, for a millisecond, our eyes locked. Bracing myself for the torrent of abuse that I was sure to come my way, I looked at him expectantly.

"Back to class, Potter," was all he said. It was perplexing, why hadn't he taken _this _opportunity to be mean, when I was clearly in the wrong.

"Professor Snape," I said quietly, I was going to confront him about this. He stood stock still and just looked at me, his face saying that he'd rather be anywhere but here. I took a deep breath, and then said, "What have I done?"

"Get back to your class Potter!" he said brashly, turning to go.

No, I wouldn't have this. I had to find out what had wiped out a whole month of him acting like a normal human being towards me. I reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his dark robes, the feel of the fabric sending shivers up my spine. That was a bad idea; he turned around, looking as if he wanted to hit me. I must have cowered or flinched because his expression softened minutely.

"I said, you should return to your class, Miss Potter," Snape said, through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry about what I...called you, professor," I tried to be diplomatic, he was obviously still mad.

He grunted and shook me off and went to leave again, but I stopped him by skirting round and standing face to face.

"But what you said, about Hermione was..."I faltered; his expression would have scared Voldemort, "Out of order?" I muttered, thinking about backtracking; this had been a really stupid plan.

"Out of order?" he said darkly, advancing closer, "Perhaps, Miss Potter, you should think before you speak."

He had a point. I felt a little crushed; he obviously wasn't going to start acting nicer anytime soon which sucked because I'd sort of need some experienced help when it came to the tasks. Now I'd just have to find someone else. As I was walking away I heard a sigh of frustration.

"Stephanie," It was Snape, where was all the Potter, Miss Potter etc...? "Tell Miss Granger she has my apologies." He said it all in the space of one second so I couldn't tell whether I'd heard him right. Before I could ask him to repeat it, he was off, practically sprinting down the corridor. I could still feel the silky cloth of his robes between my fingers long after he'd left.

When I went to the Owlery, Hedwig's perch was still empty, so I returned to lessons with a deep feeling of disappointment: Sirius hadn't replied, Snape was still a mystery and Ron (as I found out when I finally arrived at History of Magic) still wasn't talking to me. So that's how my day passed, drenched in a feeling of discomfort.

That evening, Hermione reappeared after dinner in the Common Room. I'd been getting quite worried and was about to visit the Hospital wing when she entered, rid of her mortification. She smiled shyly at me and the first thing I noticed was her teeth. They were pearly white and perfectly even.

"Hermione," I said slowly, "Your teeth..."

"Ah, yes," she smiled, "Madame Pomfrey told me to say 'stop' when they were back to their original size."

As we were laughing about her cunning, there came a little tap on the window, then a louder series of taps. I went over to investigate and the amber eyes of my owl stared back at me. When I opened the window she flew in and nipped me affectionately on the ear, before going to rest by the fire.

In her tiny talons she held a small roll of parchment which Hermione and I opened eagerly. It was from Sirius and was another item to add to my disappointment list. I had expected help or advice of some kind but all it said was,

Be in the Common Room at 1am on the 22nd of November,

Sirius

Not even 'Love, Sirius'? It was written in an untidy scrawl which meant that he'd probably been pretty busy. Hermione gasped when she saw it and prayed that Sirius wouldn't be stupid enough to try and enter the castle, not when he was still a wanted man.

I went to sleep worrying. Worrying about Snape, worrying about Ron and worrying about Sirius. It really wasn't fair of all these males to put such a pressure on me. They were going to turn me prematurely grey!


	10. Defeat

Defeat - Snape's POV

_A/N: As you can see, the alliteration has gone completely out the window :L Sorry, I know this is tiny, but it's NOT a filler, I'm tying up some loose ends. More notes at bottom._

I persevered, with all my willpower. I persevered in what I had promised to do, to be to her. But Merlin, she made it a task. The girl was everywhere; in the corridors, in the grounds, in the dungeons. I had taken to staying in my rooms of an evening, so I wouldn't bump into her, because somehow she was there, walking past with an expression that would break hearts, an expression so filled with torment that I wanted, for the first time in years, I wanted to console another person.

It grated on me and I found it increasingly hard to hate her, but still I persevered, thinking always of her father whom had made it his life's work to humiliate me, and her mother, unknowingly doing the same, rejecting me, choosing that conniving scum, Potter. Yes, I _had_ loved her, but a love unrequited soon turns to bitterness if not nurtured, and mine was especially uncared-for, untamed and left to rot, an ugly weed binding my heart, choking it.

Yet for a while now I have not felt so strongly it's suffocating pressure on my chest, nor the bitter sting of its sharp thorns. No, it's almost as if, with the coming of the winter, the weed has died altogether. So thinking of Lily Evans is no longer as painful, nor as hatred-inducing as I'd like. It makes it all the more difficult to find reasons to be obnoxious to the girl, having only one reason to curse her existence.

The worst of it all? I worry about her, day and night, I lie there thinking of the troubles she's been through, the people who've betrayed her and constantly let her down, that I've joined their ranks. Under her eyes are dark smudges, as if she's been kept awake at night, and she looks exhausted. There's the Weasley boy now as well, it was clear in their detention, when he wouldn't look her straight in the eye; he's not talking to her because he thinks she did it. The stupid boy thinks she volunteered for underage death, and wishes she'd put his name in too. Idiot, I felt like cursing him when I saw his sullen expression and her teary-eyed glances at him.

So now of course I feel more of a monster than I did before, more than I ever have, and it's no use. I can't continue like this, it's driving me insane, seeing her doe-eyes accusing me, everywhere. I'm going to break. And it's going to ruin us.

_A/N: Hmm, what do we think of this chapter? I know it's tiny but really this is for **Ivanoma** and for all of you who love the Snape pov, which (for me) is harder to write than happy-go-lucky, stroppy, steph :) SO MUCH love to everyone who's put me on their alert/favourite/author list, this is my first ever real fic and it's nice to have a response like that. Please don't stop reviewing, if it's on your alerts, and you've got two seconds to spare, please review. It gives me mojo. Love you xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_ps. thanks to **J.L.M Potter (a new reviewer, THANKYOU) and psychocitten (you're lush) xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_


	11. Dungeons and Dragons

Dungeons and Dragons - Steph's POV

_A/N: Guys I'm sorry this took so long to update but I've been up to my ears in coursework and homework :'( _

Stalking is a harsh word, ok so maybe I wasn't using the Marauder's Map in quite the way Sirius, Lupin and my dad would have wanted, but...no wait this would make them disown me as a daughter/goddaughter/niece (Remus is like an uncle to me) If they knew I was using it to follow Snape around to make him feel guilty so he'd be nice to me...well, I reckon they'd take me to St. Mungo's right away. It was worth it though, to see his incredulous twitch of the eyebrow whenever he spotted me and yet I'm still waiting for Bearable Snape's return.

And every day the task was drawing closer, as was my meeting with Sirius in the Common room. I had absolutely no clue as to what the task was and to top it all off, Ron _still _wasn't talking to me. Even when I punched him in the arm during a frustrated rant, he just walked off with a disgusted look. I'd started to get scared...really scared. It wasn't just that I had absolutely no clue about what we'd be facing; it's that I think the others do. Not Cedric, but Krum and Fleur. Their head teachers always look so smug, they must know something.

Hermione's no help, even though she spends half her life in the library and the other half telling me I should spend more of my time there. There's another strange thing, whenever I mention talking to Krum, she blushes. I sense something there, but worse, I think Ron can too, and it's obvious he's jealous, even though he's still maintaining his ice queen demeanour, the silly bugger.

To top it all off that Skeeter bitch wrote a whole article about me! It was supposed to be about the Triwizard tournament and its contestants but it turned into the uninformed biography of my life. She had quotes from me talking about my parents' death, my nightmares and my relationship with Cedric. It was mortifying when it appeared on the breakfast tables a couple mornings after the 'interview', people were pointing and sniggering. It made the blood boil in my veins. And now Malfoy and his cronies keep coming up to me in the corridors and quoting bits from it. I've had a couple of detentions now for cursing him and others, although none with Snape.

* * *

I woke up on the 22nd November feeling deeply terrified, and I hadn't even remembered I had the task in two days yet. I was glued to my bed in terror because of the dream, it wasn't a particularly gory or specific dream, and it wasn't even too traumatic. It was just a dream of an alternative reality. A world without him.

So the day was off to a bad start, my legs shaking every now and again when the images of the bleak lifeless world would assault me at random times. Homework or lessons would have finished me off, so it was good that we had a Hogsmeade day, I needed to get out of Hogwarts for a bit, it's my favourite place in the world, but just then I needed to be somewhere else. I donned my invisibility cloak; it was a relief to go unnoticed. I had to be careful though, the snow had started to fall in thick, fluffy flakes, and sometimes they settle on the cloak, revealing me.

Hermione was in a very happy mood as we set off for the Three Broomsticks; Krum had smiled at her. More recently, I'd been spending a lot of time with her in the library (it was the only place Malfoy wouldn't come to verbally torture me) and I noticed that Krum was there an awful lot as well, always stealing a quick glance at Hermione when she wasn't looking. It was sweet really; because it was obvious that the library was an alien setting to him, which meant only one thing.

Warm noise and anonymity were my two favourite things about the Three Broomsticks, that and all the Butterbeers. It was a cosy place and a place I like to imagine my family would have taken me to on Sundays, for a drink and a game of Exploding Snap. After a sneaky Butterbeer under the table, we decided to leave, Hermione wanted to go for a walk (I think she just wanted to see if Krum was around). As she opened the door, a gust of snowy wind blustered around the hem of my cloak and my feet were exposed. I couldn't go out or my cover would be blown...literally. I let Hermione walk out alone; guessing she'd be smart enough to figure out what was going on.

I was walking back to our empty table in the corner, deciding I might as well sit down, when I felt a hand tug at the cloth around my waist. Jumping violently, I spun round. Snape stood there, in his black attire, looking around in the air of someone finding a good table. It was so strange to see him this close, he hadn't stood near me for weeks.

"I know it's you, Stephanie," he whispered, barely audible. My heart beat faster. He was speaking to me, at last! He was actually saying words directed at me.

"Hagrid wants to see you in his cabin tonight, when it's dark, midnight. It's about the task." His eyes glimmered and his hair still held flakes of snow caught from outside. I smiled widely, my heart filled up to the brim with joy, I'd done it, and he was talking to me again. Thank you Moony, Padfoot, Prongs, you lifesavers. With that he walked away, with no indication that a conversation had taken place.

As I pranced out of the room, I took a final look around, but Snape was nowhere to be seen but in the corner of my eye, I spotted Mad-Eye looking perplexed and rather darkly at me, straight at me. His weird eye must see more than we thought it could.

The next couple of hours passed in an unintelligible blur; I was so happy I took my cloak off and ignored the taunts from the Slytherins. Snape wasn't being a git anymore! He was talking to me again, he called me Stephanie _and _he physically touched me...well my cloak. Not even Ron ignoring me when I said hello brought me down. In my delirious daze, I went to a Muggle-style clothes outlet and bought myself a vest-top, tiny patterned skirt and large black belt. I'd seen models wearing similar things when in magazines during the summer, and surprisingly the outfit complimented my small frame. Deciding I needed some new clothes, I purchased an array of other clothes as well, 'til my purse was considerably lighter than when I set out.

The sun was sinking gracefully below the horizon when I returned to Hogwarts, laden with bags from my impulsive spending spree. Hermione caught up with me in the dorms, where she was laying on the bed, nose in a book. When I came in, she snapped the heavy volume shut while her mouth dropped open.

"Harry, what happened, and _what_ is in all those bags?

I explained my lack of self-control and we tried on various different outfits laughing and giggling. I'd bought one skirt that was so short, Hermione tried to wear it as a boob tube. We were just changing back to our normal weekend clothes when we heard a strangled cry as a boy slid down the girls' steps. It was Ron, forgetting yet again that they weren't allowed in our dorm.

With grace, Hermione slid and talked to him. I stayed sullenly, mood dampened, because there was no point in going down. When she returned she looked unhappy, and wouldn't tell me why. In fact she wouldn't _talk, _she clammed up. Right. That was it, if neither of my friends were talking to me then I was off, I was going to the dungeons to find some mildly responsive company.

It was cold in the corridors and a strong breeze made me pull my cloak round my thin top and skinny jeans. He was there, sitting in the usual place when I opened the door, as if the last couple of weeks had never happened. Except it was different. When he looked at me, his dark, black eyes running up and down, I shivered, but not from the cold. There was a drumbeat deep in my chest and my legs weren't able to support me. It must be just the relief that he's talking to me again, I thought as he continued to look at me.

"Hey professor," I sat down on his sofa and sighed. Impatiently he cleared his throat and then waited, as if for me to continue.

"Stephanie, what, pray, are you doing? And what made you think it was acceptable to be here," Ouch! That one stung, I'll admit it. It hurt, but his voice didn't carry the same level of maliciousness, it was imperceptibly softer.

"Well," I walked over to sit opposite him, "I thought maybe I'd give the House elves a break from doing all your dirty cauldrons." Plus my two best friends aren't talking to me, and I have no idea why I'm really _here_ but for some reason I just wanted to see you.

"A likely story," well that's what it sounded like, but it was covered by his low mutter. Still, my mouth stretched into a grin. It was just so nice to hear his voice again. Humming, I strolled off to occupy myself while he marked papers.

Time was a foreign concept in Snape's office, it didn't obey rules. Last year I could've sworn that a minute lasted an hour but now, time was sprinting ahead, the hours passing in companionable silence.

Scrubbing and drying were monotonous, but they helped to numb my mind so I couldn't think about the coming days. It was only operational in telling me that I needed another cleaning rag. Aha, I spotted one on the other side of Snape's desk. It was a pity my spatial awareness was still switched off. As I reached across to grab it, I knocked over a bottle of blood-red ink...all over the papers, all over Snape. Shit. Mindlessly I daubed at his robes, panic-stricken, not realising I was making it worse with all the crap on the towel.

A low growl came from his chest and he stood, brushing me off with force. Fingers pressed against my forearms and it sent electric shocks down my spine. Ew, I was so weird, feeling that when a teacher touched me. That was when I opened my eyes...and looked where I'd been dabbing. Whoops. Gunky potion mess was spread all over Snape's upper thighs and navel...and somewhere else. I think I went more red than I'd thought humanly possible.

Needless to say I made the hastiest getaway possible, complete with stammered but vigorous apologies. It was as I was hurriedly backing out that I clocked the time. Quarter to 12...really?! Had I spent that long with Snape? Jeez. Running so fast it hurt my sides; I raced up to the common room, grabbed the cloak and sprinted down to Hagrid's. It was 5 past 12 when he opened the door...little did I know he'd be giving me the key to unlock the mystery of what lay in the task ahead.

When I arrived back at the common room in time for Sirius (still petrified he was going to turn up at the castle)...I was breathless. The creatures had been incredible, so majestic and deadly. It was poetic the way they breathed their fatal fire and managed to look so stunning at the same time. It was just gone one o'clock when the embers of the dying fire in the grate began to glow brighter, then red-hot. The sudden bright light made me start, and I walked over to have a closer look. From inside the embers and coals, a face began to form, a face that I knew very well. Joy ballooned in my heart and I chuckled. Sirius was here, in the fire! It was incredible.

Talking to him was amazing, he told me he was proud I was coping so well, and to be on my guard, which scared me a little, but I could live with it. When I told him about the dragons, he hid his fear for me well and it made me feel reassured hearing that he had confidence in his goddaughter.

Sleep that night was the tiniest bit easier knowing that at least two people in the world were on my side, even if one was in hiding and the other...probably didn't want to remember the incident this evening. Oh bugger, I hope he doesn't start being a git again! My brain was so preoccupied pondering that issue, that I didn't even remember the dragons until the following morning. Then I panicked.

* * *

It was the kind of mindless panic that only comes to the truly unprepared. It was Sunday morning, the day before the actual first task, and I had no idea what to do. How on Earth did you even start to think about getting past a fifty-foot high, fire-breathing, scaled dragon? It was impossible. Luckily Hermione seemed to have come to her senses, apologizing for her behaviour the other day.

After a hasty breakfast, she dragged me to the library, though really I wanted to go and see Snape. Yep, it was an irrational desire, but something inside told me that he'd be able to help. The library was busy, Sunday morning loads of the Ravenclaws come to do their studies. A steady pulse began to beat on my brow and I cursed. The beginnings of a stress migraine. Piles of volumes appeared on our table on magical creatures to magical weapons and everything in between. Black ink squiggles darted before my eyes for hours until I thought I'd forgotten how to read.

Making the excuse that I needed the loo, I slipped out of Hermione's bookish grasp. While I was still debating whether it was too soon to find Snape, the decision was taken out of my hands. Like a raven, he swept into the corridor, spotted me, faltered then continued. Walking into step with him, I had the uncontrollable urge to giggle, remembering the previous evening. All this stress must be doing things to my head.

"Professor," I warily tested his temper, "do you think it would be ok if we had a word in private?"

I walked on until I realised with a shock that he'd stopped still in the middle of the corridor about ten paces away. Worriedly, I retraced my steps and anxiously stared at the ground until I heard him sigh in disbelief. Looking up, I caught a slight twitch of his mouth, and a slightly mocking gaze penetrating from the onyx eyes down that trademark crooked nose. Aromas of musk and cologne hid behind a shroud of darker smells (most likely ingredients), and surprisingly, the scent was intoxicating.

"Well, if there's one thing to be said about you Potter, it's that you have nerve. Meet me in my office after lunch. Oh, and avoid Professor Moody, he's looking for you. No doubt he'll keep you in his all afternoon rambling about his glory days with your scu-...be watchful."

Cloak swishing, he strode off, presumably to lunch. For some unfathomable reason, my heart was still beating like a bird's wings when I was in the Great Hall, and my head filled with the memory of spicy scents.

"Harry!" Hermione was red in the face as she sat down to eat, "Where have you been? I looked up and you'd disappeared!"

"Oh," I said evasively, "I bumped into Professor Snape on the way to the loo," Yeah, I realised that sounded weird, "and he...gave me detention for insubordination. So he said to meet him after lunch." Lying shouldn't be this hard.

"What?" She dropped her spoon, "But Harry! You've got the task in less than 24 hours and still no idea how to get past those drag-"Hermione's mouth snapped shut as a certain skulking red-head sat down beside her, and moodily ate.

"Well four hours in the library led to nothing, so maybe I'll get some gruesome epiphany in the dungeons." I muttered, mostly to myself it must be said.

His nose was so close to the pages that he was marking, I was surprise that it didn't hinder his sight. Snape looked up as I entered. It was strange, being here again, thinking back to the previous night. Because now I was scared, I didn't want to admit to Hermione, or Sirius, or anyone, but I was terrified. It would be only too easy for the fatal creature to grasp me in its claws and crush me tomorrow. Unlike the other contestants, I only had three and a bit years of magical knowledge. It dawned on me that tomorrow, I could die, actually die. Then Mum and Dad's deaths would have been for nothing. Colours blurred and the room began to spin. I think I must have let out a cry, because before the world went sideways and I hit the cold flagstones, my legs were swept from under me and someone placed me gently on the couch.

Gradually, the world focussed, and the nausea faded a little. Dirt covered the cracks in Snape's stone floor and as I slowly raised my head from between my legs I decided it would need a clean at some point.

"Stephanie," He was kneeling in front of the sofa. His eyes met mine, and I don't know exactly, but there was something, tender in his voice, a soft golden tone, and then he said in the same note "are you alright?"

I shook my head, I wasn't "I'm scared." My hands began to shake, and I had to really try to stop myself from blubbering like an idiot.

"So Hagrid showed you them then." He asked, standing up, shaking his head. "Idiot! I forbid him; they're far more fearsome up close."

What? Seeing as I was still a little dizzy nothing much was making sense, Snape least of all.

"Professor," I groaned, "What am I going to do? I'm so scared," Without thought, I reached out and wrapped my fingers round his, feeling the warmth of his hand. The nausea came back with a vengeance, but this time it felt distinctly different. Snape looked down at me, eyes bright with...concern? No, he'd had an idea.

"Think, Stephanie. What are you best at?" he said, releasing my hand and striding across the room.

"Getting myself _almost_ killed on a regular basis," I answered, without much sarcasm.

"No. What's your _passion_?" He said, staring at me in a way that almost made me blush. Recently my _passion_ had been attempting to make him speak to me again. As I was racking my brains he shook his head at me, as if I was missing something terribly obvious.

Then it hit me, when was the first time Snape started being nice to me...after I'd begged him to change my detention because of...

"Flying!" I leaped from the couch, and then hastily sat back down when the room wobbled ominously. "But I'm only allowed a wand," depression reared its ugly head again until he laughed. A simple, carefree laugh.

"Exactly. I suggest you go and meet Miss Granger, or alternatively Mr. Diggory. If you're looking for an appropriate spell, try starting under 'A'."

Oh SHIT! Cedric! He wouldn't know about the dragons yet. With all the speed I could muster, I raced to the Hufflepuff common room (with the help of the MM), not forgetting to thank Snape before I left. Hammering on the portrait (much to the anger of its subject), I caught my breath. My head was pounding. The portrait swung open and miraculously it was one of Ced's vapid, pristine pretty girl followers. I asked her as kindly as possible if she could fetch Cedric for me, but the bitch still looked down at me and sighed disgustedly. When he appeared I'd only just finished deciding which curse I'd like to use on her.

"Cedric! It's dragons, the first task is dragons!" It came out as a long string of words I was in such a hurry to get them out.

He ran a hand through his hair, "Really? Aww no!" Something wasn't right. He sounded shocked but his eyes looked...guilty? When it came to me I took a step back.

"You-you already knew," I whispered. This couldn't be happening.

"No, honestly, I had no idea! Dragons, shit." He was trying his hardest but I still didn't believe him

"Don't lie to me!" I was shouting now, tearing up as well "Don't lie to me Cedric, and do not lie about lying!" I started to walk dejectedly away but he ran after me. Anger made my heart burn, turning all my happy memories sour.

"Look, I'm sorry. Harry, I'm so sorry but he made me promise not to tell anyone."Cedric looked pretty upset, but I guaranteed myself I felt worse.

"Who?" I asked petulantly, not really wanting to hear the answer.

"Malfoy," Malfoy?! As if that supercilious toe-rag could hurt Cedric. He held my hand when I tried to thump him and tried to explain, "Look, please don't be mad. He said if I told anyone, he'd get his dad to get me kicked out of the Tournament, him being a Governor I'm sure he would have found some legal loop-hole."

So what my life was less important to him than the tournament? Outraged, I turned to go.

"You don't understand," he said sadly, "My dad is so proud of me. But my mum, she doesn't even notice me most of the time. This competition, it's made her appreciate me more, even if I wasn't in the Daily Prophet."

I felt like saying, yeah well Cedric imagine having no parents, but I couldn't. He sounded too sad. So I did the nicest thing. Maybe not the right thing...but I forgave him. The physical attraction was still strong enough for me to overlook his mistakes. And most of the time he was pretty caring. I did have one ulterior motive though.

"I just don't know if I can forgive you Ced," I said, letting a tear roll down my cheek, "Unless...Cedric, do you know a summoning charm that could fetch a Firebolt from the dorms to the Quidditch pitch?" I said, hiding a coy smile.

Relief spread across his features as my heart turned a little blacker. Today I'd lost some trust in him _and_ learned that I was a blackmailer. Bring on the task.

A/N: I love you all very much, I hope you know that. Next chapter will be a scorcher, I've got some pretty cool ideas so KEEP READING. Lots of love, Lolly.


	12. Que Sera Sera

**Que Sera Sera - Snape's POV**

_A/N:__ Cos I know you all love Snape :) Don't think I don't love you guys, I do. Just been literally bogged down with homework atm. Take pity on me and make my life happier with some reviews? They give me motivation, make sure you're still all there. Love, Lolly xxx_

I won't lie. I was afraid, terribly afraid for her. She looked so mortally breakable, her bones prominent on her slim frame. When darkness cloaked the school my dreams plagued me, picture upon picture of her. Broken, crushed, and snapped. Sweat would cover my limbs and my shaking was enough to dislodge me from sleep. Pushing the covers off my heated body, I rose and walked to the window. A bright sphere hung in the sky, its light shrouding the scene outside with glittering silver. The window was charmed to imitate the real scene of the forest and lake, my dungeon rooms being deep in the bowels of the castle. The task was in a matter of hours and it came to me that I wouldn't be able to watch. How could I? All I will be able to see is her broken form as she flies. And how will I know she won't fall from her broom even if the dragon doesn't get her. Sighing, I went back to my cold sheets, if I couldn't switch off my troublesome thoughts, then I might as well worry in comfort. As the hours dragged on, my dreary lids slid shut, opening the passage to my fears.

_She was beautiful. Her robes flowed delicately over her lithe form, highlighting her newly developed assets. Surely they would put her off balance? With unimaginable grace, she mounted the broom and flew high, high, higher in the sky, above the clouds. And then the sun was shining bright, blinding me and I couldn't see her. She was lost. Where was she? Stephanie?! The blinding whiteness had robbed me from my sight and my ears were suddenly saturated with a terrible roaring burst of anger. From the dragon's mouth. I shouted and struggled but bonds were holding me back and then I could see again. I could see, and I saw her limp, lifeless body strewn across the floor. Deep inside something cracked, splintered and I fell to my knees. I fell to my knees and despaired. _

The sun was shining on my face when I awoke, and the aforesaid felt stiff and my eyes stung. With haste I dressed, I needed to see her, to check whether she had the spell, if she'd practised. But how would I find her? The great hall was my best estimation and once I was cloaked, I sped there with an unusual pounding and churning in my heart and stomach. As I approached the Hall I heard the tell-tale noise, the humming of a thousand gossip-bees, all wanting to produce the best quality rumours. Entering, my eyes furtively searched for her black curls. There! At the Gryffindor table. My next task would be to capture her attention and draw her away. No, there was no time. I marched over directly, stood behind her and cleared my throat. When she turned around my breathing faltered; she was paler than death.

"Miss Potter, I need a word with you. Immediately," if my speech was more stilted than usual, none of her friends appeared to have noticed.

"But Professor!" That was Granger, looking nearly as scared as Stephanie, "Harry needs to be at the pitch in thirty minutes!" Stupid girl, as if I didn't know that.

"I'm well aware of that Miss Granger and I wish to take only five minutes of your precious time away. Now, if you please, Miss Potter." She stood as if not realising her movements and walked with me in the same, brain-dead fashion. It would have been amusing any other day, a glowing sentiment to my taunts of her stupidity. But today it sent a chill of horror down my spine. How would she evade a dragon without thinking? Then again maybe flight for her is as much as a sixth sense as potions making is for me. We stopped in a small, unused classroom in which the tables were covered with the dust of neglect. I closed the door behind us and turned to look at her. A solitary tear made its way down her cheek. It pained me to see her in this state so I did something I vowed to myself I would never again. I walked over to her and embraced her. It was if something in her broke and her small head flopped against my shoulder, her arms shot round my back and grasped me as if she never wanted to let go. There was more than a little fear in that death grip.

"Professor," she said, voice barely more than a whisper, "I've practised with the spell, and I think it'll work." I nodded, holding her a little closer.

In her voice I heard the words she wouldn't or couldn't say. That she was terrified, that she knew it was a possibility she might die today. I held her, hoping she'd find some comfort in the human contact, cursing myself because I was feeding the dark, monster inside me with this seemingly harmless touch. Selfishly, I wished her the best of luck that she would come back in one piece, so _I _could see her again, so she wouldn't leave me. The monster growled in appreciation, enjoying my simple and devious sentiment. She gasped, drawing back in horror. For a horrifying moment I panicked, panicked that the monster had taken control and showed its _excitement_ at being so close to her, through my body. Fortunately I'd controlled myself and her exclamation was at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes. Stephanie grasped my fingers then fled and I followed close on her heels.

When I took my place in the stands Dumbledore looked at me curiously.

"Severus," he said, placing an old and frail-looking hand on my shoulder, "You look in need of a little...courage." The older man smiled and placed a flask in my hand. Cautiously I uncorked it and inhaled. Ah, Firewhisky, perhaps that _was_ a good idea. Without hesitation I drank, long and deep till there was a burning in my throat and belly, and my cold clammy skin felt a little warmer. Albus smiled kindly again and leaned imperceptibly closer.

"She'll be alright Severus," I looked at him, astonished, "Harry Potter has more strength and resilience than any other witch or wizard I know. She will triumph."

I can't say that after that I felt confident, but it did lessen the feeling in the black pit that was my stomach, if only for a little while. Bagman stood there, jolly and blubbery as a small whale, while he rattled through his meaningless amenities. First up was the other girl, Delacour, battling what looked like a rather tame lizard in comparison to the other fire-breathing monsters I had witnessed. Then there was the knucklehead Krum and my stomach started having palpitations of fear, it would soon be time for her task. The point was really very simple, the champion had to outwit, charm or dodge the dragon to reach a golden egg nestled in a batch of the mother dragon's other eggs, simple yes but deadly. When the Diggory boy appeared, his face was white but determined. The boy used a number of fairly intelligent spells, turning his skin into that of a chameleon at the last stretch, so he was able to sneak straight under the dragon's tail and snatch the egg. However the effect wore off as he was racing away and he dropped it. Despite myself I feared for him, it would affect Stephanie dreadfully if he were to die. Malicious roars thundered through the stadium, dragon breath blowing through the hair of students in the lower stands. Diggory stumbled as he ran, cutting his leg on a rock, but luckily was able to pick up the egg on his way and manage a limping gallop to the podium. A claxon sounded and it was over, his ordeal lasting only twenty minutes. Bursts of fear squeezed through my body, throat to toe, and I chided myself. Nothing would go wrong, she'd faced down the Dark Lord for Merlin's sake, she could deal with a dragon. A mother dragon. A livid, terrifying mother dragon. The fear returned with a vengeance. It was her turn, and the fear was so terrible now that it didn't bear thinking about, so I shut my eyes.

Cheers rippled through the Gryffindor section of the stands, while bouts of booing came from where the Slytherins. Anger blushed into my cheeks at the sound, what were they trying to do, scare her to death? Opening my lids with caution I saw her. It was a beautiful sight, her scarlet robes billowing in the November winds and her hair swept off her face. It was like in my dreams, but more spectacular. Suddenly the dragon roared. It was time for her to begin.

* * *

The fiery, golden liquid seeped down my throat for the second time today, warming me though this time I felt no real need for it, apart from to top up my relief. She had been awe-inspiring, flying as if her life depended on it, which incidentally it did. Something stirred inside me thinking of her again and I forcefully pushed it away. As if I required more feelings, today I'd felt almost hormonal, with moods swinging from petrified terror to bouts of elated joy. It had been incredible really, her skill on the broom surpassing anything I'd seen from Hogwarts players. The way she'd dodged those scorching flames...

Slowly, I went into the study, pondering a lesson plan I'd formulated for the following day. Shrinking potions, with the emphasis on shrinking. Merlin knows I'd seen enough liquids which melted, burned, disappeared and done who-knows-what-else to the object they were meant to be shrinking. Perhaps I'd test their contributions on a pupil, antidote ready at hand of course. Leather creaked as I sank into my favourite armchair, book in hand, still savouring the thought of the lesson plan. As I'd settled, I heard a faint knock on the door to my office. Blast, who was visiting at this time in the evening?! Oak panels blurred as I stood up to quickly; perhaps the Firewhisky wasn't a stupendous idea.

When I entered my workspace, she had already come in, face stretched wide and pinned by a smile and a faint blush of pleasure adorning her cheekbones. Even with my slightly impaired judgement it seemed more than odd that she was here. Surely those damned red-head genetic duplicates would've thrown some suitably deafening and fitting party.

"Stephanie," was all I could manage until some sense drifted back into my skull, "Don't you have somewhere better to be?" Her expression dropped like a stone in water at the harsh-sounding question.

"Oh sorry professor, I'll leave then," her voice was suddenly moody, defiant in all her teenage glory. She rose, but I placed a restraining hand on her arm. The skin was porcelain but smooth and warm.

"I meant a victory party. You did well today, "I said, lowering my voice, pushing her gently back to where she was sitting. I pondered taking a place next to her but remained awkwardly stood.

"Thankyou," she whispered, "Honestly though sir, if you hadn't of said what you did in Hogsmeade...I would've been eaten alive out there." She giggled suddenly, a pealing sound, like church bells.

"Literally," she elaborated and patted the other end of the leather couch. Hesitantly, I took a place, still feeling uncomfortable. There was something about the situation that wasn't appropriate; it was nearly curfew time after all. There was silence in the room for a few seconds, then at the same time as I said her name she spoke.

"Professor," a colour rose in her cheeks at the clash of voices, but I waved her on, "why did you refuse to speak, look or even acknowledge my existence for a good part of a month?" The words came out in a spewed verbal string, which took a while for me to unknot.

"Because a relationship between a teacher and pupil should remain just that," I said slowly; trying to put into words all the reasons that weren't because I was obsessed with the girl, "and if a certain boundary is crossed, then you lose the desired relationship. Thus, teaching you would be made more difficult, impossible. And as you are already lacking in natural Potions talent..." At the jibe, her bottom lip jutted out, red and glistening, but her eyes shone with mischief. Then her brow furrowed.

"So why now-"she didn't have to finish her sentence, I knew what she was going to ask.

"I don't know Stephanie. It must be said that you are persistent, irritatingly so. Perhaps at certain points in life, you should just let things take a natural course."

She looked thoughtful again, and as I studied her face I realised she'd moved closer, towards where I was sitting. Light glinted off her enlarged emerald eyes and they enthralled me, drawing me in with their perfect ovular shape, framed my dark, long lashes. It was impossible to look away even as they grew larger. Suddenly I could smell her hair, the scent of lilacs and jasmine, and I could taste Butterbeer in the air, I could see the precious pout of her lips. As soon as I realised what was happening, the monster inside me had roared, demanding some recognition, to follow my own advice, and let this foolish, naive, beautiful little girl kiss me. How easy it would've been, how easily I could've leaned forwards, brushed her lips with my own. Fortunately the professional inside of me, what little there was left of it, put hands on both her shoulders, firmly pushing her away.

"And sometimes," I said, catching my breath which I'd misplaced somewhere during the incident, "you have to apply self control, and not be an imbecile. Get _out_ Potter." I spat out the last three words, immediately rebuilding the self defence I'd let slip. I rose, paced over to the door and flung it open for her.

The monster inside me howled, hungry and bitter. Her eyes clouded up with tears of humiliation as she walked past me, mortification slowing her movements. With those tantalising green orbs, she shot me a look which would have been more use to her this afternoon, in slaying the dragon.

I slammed the door behind her and sank into the sofa. For a second I sat there, and then moved. The sofa contained too much of her, she'd been here too often. I'd failed once more. Still, it was a testament to myself control that I hadn't let it happen. Merlin knows I wanted it to, monster that I am. Yet once again, I've destroyed something that began to resemble friendship, companionship. Her move had been ill-timed. Perhaps after a few more days with her, wanting her, I would have let it happen. She has an addictive nature, drawing in all around her, even me. Never again though. I can't let myself be in another situation like tonight, because I know if it were to happen again, I wouldn't have the willpower to withstand.

Then again, que sera sera.

_A/N: PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE WITH A CHERRY AND ICING ON TOP, REVIEW :)_


	13. Square One

Square One - Stephy's POV

_A/N: Guys please review. I need you :) Love you all so much especially **the dark euphie, devoted2know** and **hpfangirl61. **You are all SO COOL :D Love you so much xxx_

When I reached the dormitory, I shut down, climbed into my bed. I lay there, and no one bothered me. Maybe they could sense my hurt, so much hurt they realised they shouldn't bother me. Not even Hermione appeared. So I lay there, in my bed of pain. And believe me, there was a lot of pain. I was just so...ashamed. It hurt so much that I wept until I'd forgotten what I was crying about. Face salty and stiff, after about three hours of crying I got up. I shook myself and looked around. Shit. The curtains were drawn, so no one _had_ heard me. Well, good, I told myself. Though a tiny piece of me craved the sympathy of concerned friends.

My reflection in the mirror was horrible, hair a mess, eyes red and raw and face blotchier than Dudley's legs. A rapid makeover was needed, so I went to the showers. Steam and jets of near-scalding water cascading down my back and face, helping to wash away the tell-tale signs of grief. I thought I'd cried all my tears, but my face was still wet after rigorous drying. Hard as I tried to block it out of my memory, I couldn't push away his disgusted face. What was I even thinking? It wasn't as if he was attractive, with his stupid crooked nose and greasy hair. Though it wasn't greasy, not up close. It was feathery and looked soft and downy, and his nose wasn't crooked, just slightly bent, giving his face more character. It brought out Snape's eyes. His dark mysterious eyes. Though tonight I'd seen how much revulsion they could hold.

When I finally entered the dormitory again, Hermione was sat on my bed, eyebrows furrowed, creases in her forehead. At the sound of my footsteps she leapt up, running to me and hugging me strongly.

"Where have you _been_?" Her arms tightened euphorically and she laughed in my ear, "I was so worried about you. You've been missing the party."

I nodded into her hair, discretely, desperately trying to hold back the tears that had begun to well up again. You see, no one had noticed me when I crept into the common room after...at the start of the party. I guess I'd looked like such a loser that no one could possibly have mistaken me for the winner of the first task. Anyway, while in my bed of pain, I had heard the party growing rowdier and, by the sounds of it, more entertaining. Hermione's easy happiness suggested that someone (Ron?) had slipped something a little stronger into her Butterbeer.

Harsh beats vibrated from below and Hermione, still oblivious to my discomfort, dragged me downstairs without waiting for an answer. As I walked downstairs, the room erupted, noise doubling. Ron rushed up and took my other arm, pulling me close. What? He was talking to me? Hermione looked awkwardly at us and drifted off.

I pushed Ron off, "What do you want?" Misery made my tones acidic.

"I'm," he paused, looking shifty, "Look, I'm really sorry Harry. Watching that, what you did...well. Only a nutter would willingly put themselves through that." Ron smiled sheepishly, and my heart swelled with happiness, which was surprisingly painful. I think it must be bruised. I opened my arms and embraced him, breathing in his familiar, cosy smell. God, how I'd missed the idiot.

"I can't believe you put me through that, Ronald Weasley," my voice was thicker and muffled by tears but Ron was too relieved to notice. "What will your mother say...?" Enjoying his flustering, we walked over to the drinks table.

"Oh Merlin, please don't tell her Harry. She'd skin me alive for being such a shit friend." He looked sufficiently repentant and I poured him a drink to show I was kidding.

Fred and George appeared, out of the gloomy corner with more skill than a ghost. My terrified jump seemed to amuse them. Now the twins had always been flirty, but tonight their jibes and harmless touches burned me, touching something sore in my chest. When George twirled a strand of my hair around his finger and told me that if I wanted, he had a stronger drink (ah, that's why Hermione was a little tipsy), I slapped his hand away. It was all too much to bear, not tonight.

Claiming exhaustion I tried to get to bed, but a hoard of people barred my way. The price for going up to bed was that I had to show them the egg, open the golden sphere. So I did. Screams so shrill and terrible that they were beautiful in a horrific way pierced the eardrums of all around. When I managed to slam it shut, I was allowed to go to bed. Only the persistently irritating twins tried to stop me. A threat of opening the egg again soon shifted them out of my way.

My brain buzzed with the sounds of the common room, and ears rang with the sudden quiet of the dorm. Wind bustled in through the open window, making me shiver and draw my cardigan closer around me. When I reached the bed, there was a little note nestled on my pillow, written in a slanting, hasty script.

Miss Potter, in future, my office is off limits to you, as is my private ingredients cupboard.

You will have to locate the ingredients for your private endeavours by yourself.

Visits are reserved for emergencies or detentions only.

Professor Snape.

Cold. It was suddenly so cold in the room. Notes that didn't make sense weren't what I was expecting to find on my pillow. Anger boiled inside me and I tore the little piece of paper again and again, in half then half again. Freezing head to toe, I curled up inside my bed, paper strewn around me like twisted confetti. Still debating whether to burn the pieces as well, I drifted into a black sleep.

The morning came, eventually. Though not before I had to claw my way from a murky fog of terror. The dream had been a disturbing one, where I wasn't quite sure where I was, but it was black and cold, and there were hands pushing me away and eyes piercing me through, til I was too scared to move. Eventually I hauled my ass out of bed, rubbing my eyes.

Hermione lay passed out, spread-eagled across her bed, snoring lightly. I shook my head, it was sweet somehow, very innocent. I headed out, the Owlery being my original destination. Left foot, right foot, I moved without thinking and jolted when I realised that where I'd ended up smelled nothing like owl droppings.

No. The smell was far more exotic, of lemongrass, batwing, fire lizard... My eyes snapped open properly, a breath of air left me and I felt dizzy, blood rushing to the temples. I was outside his office, a place out of bounds. Shit. Fast as I could I began retracing my steps, running up flights of stairs. Though, as in all aspects of my life, lady luck decided to forsake me. I ran into the person I had been praying not to. Snape.

He looked (if anything) surprised. All colour drained from his already-pallid complexion, making him appear a ghastly spectre. I danced around on the balls of my feet, desperate to rush past him; I could feel my eyes stinging already with shame. It wasn't right that I was here, that much was clear from his horrified gaze.

But he didn't move. Solidly, stoically he stood there, like some perfect gargoyle. Oh Snape, please move I begged with my eyes. He was looking, but not at me, through me. Suddenly he lurched, toppling, crashing forwards, onto me. I wasn't expecting it and the full weight of his body brought me down. Cold stones pressed into my back as my chest deflated, air squeezed out. I could feel his large, tense muscles pressed against my breasts, my thighs, my legs. It was only for one awful and glorious second, but then he regained composure, rose and drew himself to a haughty posture, ignoring the fall completely.

My body was tingling, electric sparks dancing in my muscles to the beat of my uncontainable heart. Blood flushed my cheeks, and I pulled my knees up, finding some dignity. That was when I noticed my skirt, hitched up around my navel, shirt riding up to my bra. With a squeak of horror I adjusted myself while Snape had the decency to look away. Something I noticed he hadn't done before.

When I was acceptable he looked down at me, disgusted, though he'd tripped onto _me!_  
"Potter," he spat, "Has your head swelled so much with undeserved glory that it has pushed out the ability to read?" his head tilted to the side in mock curiosity. I wanted to punch him, hard.

"No, _sir_," the word mirrored his own mockery, "I was actually on my way to...to..." shit, where was near the dungeons? Oh Merlin, he was never going to believe me, "to the Slytherin common room."

Snape sneered, his lips curled, "Do give them my warm wishes. I'm sure they'll welcome you with open arms." Bastard.

Head held high, I began to walk off, in what I remembered as the direction to their common room. Vice-like fingers gripped my shoulder, my feet spinning round to meet his eye. Snape put his face very close to mine, his breath tickling my ear. Blushes covered my face; the last time we'd been this close was last night when I...

"If I found out Potter, that you have stolen from my private stores again, I will make sure that you are _expelled._ Understand me?"

Well that explained his ridiculous note. I was outraged. It was one thing to bully me because I'd been a bit of an idiot, but to accuse me of a crime I'd never committed was pushing things a little too far for my liking. I mocked his own sneer with mine and continued into the bowels of the dungeons.

It was a good half-hour of hiding and skulking before I deigned it safe enough to rush past his offices, back to the Owlery where I was meant to be. As I wrote my letter to Sirius, I fumed about Snape's injustice. This one really stung because he had all the cards. It was me who'd made a _move_, so to speak. He was completely in the right, which gave him kicks obviously. Lead a young girl on until you get the chance to crush her. And he had, he'd crushed a little piece of my heart. It was so painful admitting it, but somewhere along the line, I'd let myself become comfortable around him. I didn't really _fancy him, _it was nothing like what I felt for Cedric. Which made it stranger? It was subtler and yet far more powerful, it was gentler but stronger than I'd ever thought possible. There was no doubting it now; my feelings for the man were no longer purely platonic.

But did I still feel the same way after last night? This might have been a teenager's stupidity but somewhere deep I thought Snape had feelings for me, that weren't exactly what he should be feeling.

The way he'd treated me today and last night were totally different though. It was as if I'd crossed some invisible laser beam in our relationship that had triggered barriers. Now he was the same old git he'd always been and I'd lost all progress. I was back to square one.

There was something particularly fishy about the whole thing though. I couldn't pinpoint it, but was sure the clue lay hidden in the stolen potions ingredients. Someone wanted something they couldn't get legitimately, which meant they were brewing a forbidden potion. Now I just had to find out who and why.


	14. Losing Trust

Losing Trust - Stephy's POV

_A/N: Dear and loyal reviewers, you know you are the best thing ever right? Good, glad we cleared that up._

The Yule Ball. Yeurgh. Seriously, were they trying to embarrass me on the dancefloor as well as during tasks? Why is life such a bitch? The awkward-ness was double because Cedric hasn't really been _speaking_ to me lately. I mean, sure we've been together and we've been urmm...making out but I'm pretty sure we haven't had a decent conversation in a few weeks. Which isn't good.

Since I was rebuffed by a certain Potions master (something I'm trying very hard not to think about), I've been letting Cedric's hands wander. Occasionally when we're kissing he slips his hand down to my breast. The contact sends alarm bells blaring through my head each and every time, plus it's hard to ignore the urge to slap his hand away. If I did that, then he might call me a prude and the last thing I need is another smear on my reputation. One time, a seventh year girl in Hufflepuff refused to do it with her boyfriend after a year of going out so he called her frigid and broke up with her. Months later people still sang 'ice ice baby' and asked if they could borrow her to keep their drinks cold. I shiver just thinking about how horrible that would be. Yet even though I know he's not going to hurt me, I can't shake the thought that he might, that he has the power to. This is an area where past experiences have not been kind.

So when Cedric does it, I'm scared. But the thought of a particular older man touching me like that...well I hate to admit it, but that thought excites me. Which is why I was so worried about the Yule Ball. Christmas parties are infamous for...that kind of action, and I get all nervy when he touches my boobs over my clothes. Urrrgh. Why can't boys just be interested in friendship? Saying that, I still wanted a certain male to hold me. Sometimes I think that my parents are better off six feet under, they'd probably hate a weirdo like me for a daughter.

So the thing that got me started on the Yule Ball is that Cedric asked me to go. Fair enough, when you think that we're going out. Ron was going to leave it to the last minute, I could tell. Hermione looked pretty upset that he didn't ask her first thing, but I reckoned she had a few admirers who could take her. Failing that, she could always go with Neville. I tried hard to concentrate on lessons so that thoughts of this upcoming horror won't scar me. But keeping my mind on lessons wasn't working so well in the dungeons.

Potions was mortifying. Yesterday, there were no seats at the back/middle so I had to sit at the front, right by him. It isn't as though he's announcing to the world what we did (or attempted)... but the way he looks at me makes me shiver, like I'm something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. When I dropped my books, he purposefully trod on my fingers when I went to get them. Well, that's what it seemed like, though if I didn't _know_ that he hated me he might have looked repentant. It's as if there's this wall of physical and mental tension between us now, obtrusive in its force, like some giant brick barrier. He does hate me though, and I can't stand it!

At least I've got Ron back, but I don't see why I should have to lose one person to gain another. It just doesn't seem fair. So with all this on my mind I entered the weeks leading up to the Yule Ball.

They passed in a blur. It just isn't fair, that time has a mind of its own. It shouldn't be allowed to do that, speed up and slow down when it likes. Lessons zipped by like they were late for a train. Oh, all except one that is. Potions. Obviously. The air is so thick in those dungeons that when he brushed past me while handing out ingredients (he controls all that with an iron rule now) it's almost as if I could see the electric tingle I felt reflected in his eyes. The flip-side of that coin is that I can feel his hatred radiating around the room.

Also in Transfiguration we were having dance classes and THAT was a travesty. I may fly with what slightly resembles grace on the Quidditch pitch, but on my own two feet...there's no way in hell that I look elegant. But, as it was what I'd have to do with Cedric in a few days' time, I practised hard, for my own pride and dignity more than anything else. When I think about the taunts if I fell or stumbled, or stabbed Ced's foot with a heel. Oh Lord, that would be awful.

It was the day before the dance so I'd been practising my dancing vigorously. During one of these dance practises in a large hall I hadn't been to before (I was sashaying around the floor with Hermione, letting off light and airy laughs when we stumbled) I had a weird feeling. It was creepy, like a spider crawling up my neck. Almost like a presence in the room, I could sense a magical aura that was nothing like Hermione. It felt strange, foreign yet recognisable, like a familiar stranger. I shivered and let go of Hermione's shoulder (she'd been being Cedric) and walked around the room, trying to source the cold aura. I don't know what it was that attracted me to the corner of the room but I think it was a building tension. Before I could convince myself not to follow the stupid impulse, I drew my wand and yelled at the top of my lungs "EXPELLIARMUS!"

I was right! A wand flew gracefully through the air while Hermione shrieked. Deftly, I caught it in my left hand and ran forward to grab my attempted-attacker by the collar. What? My intake of air was audible. Cedric?

"What...what are you doing here?" I muttered, feeling mortified as he clambered to his feet. Hermione looked on in wonder.

"I was going to surprise you..." he looked dazed, confused, as if he himself couldn't remember why he was here, "I thought you were going to be here alone...I think."

Confused, I said, "How did you know I was going to be here?" Low but strong, my voice sounded powerful and I was pleased when I felt the tell-tale tingle of my magical strength. It gave me confidence and I stopped being worried. It was OK, I had _sensed_ someone's presence, me, miss oblivious! If anyone was out to get me, it would be alright because I was strong. Happily I waited for his answer.

"Urmm, I'm not sure," his forehead wrinkled adorably, like a pug. Eww that actually wasn't a very nice or flattering comparison – scratch that, "Lucky guess?" Smiling now, I flung my arms around him.

Hermione coughed conspicuously then deliberately walked out, taking her time. Oops, maybe I'd offended her. Oh well, she'd get over it. The music was still playing softly and my boyfriend began to sway gently, working us into a rhythm. Cedric felt warm and strong and as I studied our feet (or else I was sure I'd stumble), he cupped his hand under my chin and tilted my head up.

A swift, sharp bolt of electric shock rushed through me. I jerked away from him, overcome by a crushing sense of déjà vu. It took me a moment to place but my mind slithered back over memories oppressed. It was exactly like the way Snape had taken my chin all those weeks back, in a detention, when he got me to tell him the truth. So I'd liked him all the way back then? I buried my head in my hands and moaned, wanting to run away and be alone.

"Steph, What's up?" his voice, though thick with concern, was suddenly irritating, "Maybe you should go to the Hospital Wing, I mean you don't look so hot..." He blocked my path, putting his arms on my shoulders and standing right in front of the door.

"Urghh, get out of my way Cedric," Through my gritted teeth it sounded like 'Cedd-err-rick' and the emphasis brought anger to my voice. Swirling bouts of magic washed through me but they were from the rage this time, the more uncontrollable aspect of my magic. "Get out of the way, or I swear it Ced, I'll do something _you'll_ regret."

Eyes narrowed in hurt, he stepped out of the way, looking more the injured puppy than ever. I sighed and walked away, hurrying to a jog when I heard following footsteps. In the dorms I threw myself on the bed, upset with my behaviour.

How was I going to dance with him when I had a toddler-tantrum and ran away because he reminded me a little of Snape? What was he going to think of me? This was all Snape's fault! The anger started to build up again, and a breeze sailed through the window, swirling round the drapes. No. I calmed myself, counting to ten slowly back and forth. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1...and repeat. It was what I used to do at the Dursleys when things got too much and I didn't want anybody to hurt me. So it works now as it worked then, in self-protection. I heard squeaking on the floorboards and then felt the pressure as she sat down beside me.

"What's wrong Harry?" Hermione patted my hair and I instantly felt a little better.

"I don't know," I whispered, though I did. It all came down to one person really.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Except I couldn't, not about this. It wasn't like we'd _done_ anything, but she'd never understand. Sure, she kissed teachers' asses...but she didn't fall in love with them.

Shit. Love. Did I really love him? Covering my head in my hands I nodded, not at my thoughts, but at Hermione. I loved her and I loved Ron and I loved Sirius, the Weasleys and Hagrid. All in different ways, but when you came down to it I loved them all. Could what I feel for Snape be like that? Or a kind of lust maybe? Oh, I just don't know.

"Well," Hermione said, "Please don't be too sad, it's Christmas Eve tomorrow. And the Yule Ball should be fun."

Yeah. Amazing. I nodded with a sniffle, then turned to her.

"Wait, Hermione. Hadn't you better find a date? It's getting pretty late. I think Ron may even have asked someone."

Huffily, she got up. "I've got a date thank you very much." And with that she was gone, leaving me no other choice but to ponder who had possibly asked her...Bleary-eyed and sleepily I went through the obvious choices, Ron (nope, hasn't got the balls), Neville (I heard he was going with Ginny, maybe he's pimping), Dean, Seamus, Fred, George? I doubted all of them. An idea was coming to me...but then I fell asleep.

All next day I had that worried, twisty, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. At breakfast Ron looked worriedly at me, and I knew he still hadn't got a date. Feeling pitiful, I tactfully suggested he asked Parvati.

"Thanks Harry, I was getting really desperate...Hermione got really pissy when I asked her..."

Pointing out to him that he _did_ ask her as a last resort I went to the dorms to fetch my nice smellies I got for my birthday. And so began the process of vanity. I washed, shampooed, conditioned, moisturised, lotioned, sprayed, straightened (gave up on that), curled, pinned, brushed and styled myself to as close to beautiful as I was ever going to get. My hair was placed in a bouffant up-do, very Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman (I love Richard Gere [Perhaps where I started my weirdo crush on older men?]...that film was sneakily watched at a neighbour's house while they were meant to be babysitting) Then it was time for the dress. It was something I'd bought during my crazy shopping spree and I loved it. It was gold-tinted creamy satin, low-cut with an empire line and a simple, straight-flowing train down to just-above my knee. So simple and yet it was so elegant, flowing like golden water. Ok, so I lied, not everything about the Yule Ball was terrible; I did like this dressing up. It would have been more fun with Hermione but she'd disappeared.

By the time I was getting my make-up on, it was almost seven. Wow. It really is true, what they say about girls taking a long time to get ready. I slipped on my shiny, diamante silver heels (and fuck me, they were big heels) and I was finished. Cautiously, I looked in the mirror and smiled. My hair was nice, one dark chocolate curl framing my face. My boobs looked huge, which was a very good thing and I looked taller than my 5"5 height, I'd grown about three inches.

I was ready. For once, I actually felt beautiful (though I might not have looked it), no not stunning or gorgeous, but pretty damned good. Happiness floated up through me, like helium and it seemed to add to my height. It was truly a wonderful feeling. When I stepped into the common room, the one or two heads that were in there definitely turned. I held my head high and (without falling!) made my way to the Great Hall.

By the sounds of it, most people were already in there, waiting for us. McGonagall stood outside the great oak door with Krum, Fleur and Cedric. Fleur had a very handsome seventh year Ravenclaw on her arm and when I poked my head around, I saw Krum was holding...What? Hermione?! I'm pretty sure my eyes popped out a little. The exclamation of shock turned them all around to face me.

Cedric's mouth dropped open as in the movies...wow I didn't think that really happened. He walked up to me, putting a hand round my face. I tried not to think of Snape.

"You look...stunning," he whispered. Smiling in spite of myself, I took his hand and proudly walked into the Great Hall.

As soon as we entered, the musicians began to play a slow, lilting waltz, one similar (if not identical) to the one I'd practised with. Brilliant, this was actually going well. As Cedric and I began to sway and shimmy around the floor, I glanced at Hermione. She looked wonderful, hair straight as a ruler, falling like a waterfall around her shoulders. Her dress was pastel blue; I'd seen it before but never on her. She looked incredible.

I continued doing a revised summary of is-what-she's-wearing-nicer-than-what-I'm-wearing but my eyes wandered from the girls as other partners began to join the waltz. It was then that I saw him. Snape. With Sinistra. Instantly, my blood boiled hot and fast, my eyes darting away. But there was some magnetic attraction. I had to look at him again.

And when our eyes met, his face showed only one emotion...amazement. Gone was the look of cold malice or contempt. As we danced gracefully around, but never into each other, our eyes locked and I couldn't look away. His suddenly darted, to travel once up and down my form. Visibly his Adam's apple bobbed. Snape had gulped. I stumbled as our eyes trapped each other once more. The sudden intensity of his gaze was primitive...almost feral in the _desire_ it showed. Or that's what it seemed like.

Suddenly he left, pulling sharply away from Professor Sinistra, he stalked past me, head held high. His eyes though, were boring straight into my own and it made my whole body shiver. Including my brilliantly elegant feet.

They tripped over themselves again, catching in Cedric's expensive-looking dress robes and a fiery pain shot up my ankle as I fell on the floor. Awww, shit. Now I'd done it. Luckily, it was too far into the dance for anyone to really notice me, as there were around fifty couples on the floor now. Cedric bent down, helped me up and quietly shepherded me out of the packed and noisy hall. My foot was killing me, stabs of pain with every step.

"Stephy, let's get you somewhere quiet so we can look at that foot," Cedric said, arm around me for support. I was about to suggest the Hospital Wing but he seemed to have a plan so I went with it.

Looking back, I should have realised it was weird that he didn't want to get me medical attention straight away. But I was too happy to care, my mind on the strange and powerful glances that had passed between me and my Potions master. Did he like me again?

My brain was buzzing so hard I didn't realise we'd stopped until Cedric propped me up on a desk and rested my feet on a chair. My ankle was throbbing now but less painful, so I took in my surroundings. We were in a classroom, quiet, dark, secluded. And Cedric had just closed the door.

"Ced, what are you doing?" my voice sounded quiet in a room that was so used to noise.

"Oh," he looked shifty, "I just thought you might like a little privacy..."

"For my ankle?" My giggle sounded just a little forced. Cedric walked closer, placing a hand on my waist.

"No, though I guess that's why we're here. I just thought, well we have been going out ages now. Maybe you wanted a little fun? Away from prying eyes" His eyes darted up and down me luridly.

"No!" I said, a little angry, "Cedric, I don't think I'm ready for anything like that, especially with y-"

He stopped my words with a hard, angry kiss. I squealed my protest and pushed him away but he was strong, hands pinning my forearms so I couldn't hit him. When his mouth moved down to my neck I screamed at him, battering him with feeble punches.

"CEDRIC! What the fuck do you think you're playing at?" My rage was immense, this was ridiculous. But he was scaring me, he was too strong. I looked at him pleadingly, and that's when I noticed it, his eyes were hazy, glazed and milky. Something wasn't right. He didn't speak but shoved one of his hands over my mouth. I bit him hard (telling myself this wasn't him) and tasted blood. But he only let out a roar of pain, not moving the hand blocking my mouth and moved his other hand lower, to the strap of my dress.

With animal strength he ripped it, exposing skin. Fear began to rise in me like bile, choking its way out of my stomach in a petrified scream that was loud even under his hand. The Cedric-that-wasn't-Cedric raised the same hand back and slapped me. Hard, open-palmed and straight across the face. Then I felt a small hard tip digging into my forehead. He had his wand out?!?! Panicking I flailed my arms for my wand, then with a crushing terror, realised I had left it in the dorm. Stinging tears were running down my face now, hot and salty. I sobbed harder as I felt his hand rip the seam of my dress leading up to my thigh.

"If you resist, you're gonna get hurt. Then again I'm going to kill you afterwards anyway," the horrifying imposter of my boyfriend snarled, pressing the wand into my temple, letting me have a quick short blast of some unspoken spell. Body convulsing in pain, I tried to wriggle away but he caught me and slammed me back down.

When his fingers curled around the elastic of my underwear my mind went blank with terror, and my breathing mutated into short, sharp breathless breaths as I seemed to lose more air with each gulp. The thing's hand reached into the fabric of my dress and fondled my breast, squeezing. No thoughts ran through my brain apart from blind fear, but somewhere hidden in that fear was a reaction. A reaction born of time and terror, that had worked its way through generations. With all the force and strength I could possibly muster, I drew back my knee and thrust it hard and fast into his crotch.

Satisfyingly I hit something soft and his scream of pain was like a lion's. Ankle forgotten, I ran. Ran faster than ever before, falling and clawing my way back up again but still running. I couldn't think and was sobbing so hard my chest was sore as I gasped for breath. I knew where I was going. It didn't really make sense but I had to see him, he was the first person that came to mind.

In the dark courtyard, rain pelted like icy stones. As the wind blew harder, the water whipped round me, freezing me as I ran. Back under the shelter of the castle, I ran down two flights of steps, feet numb and heart pounding. Then there I was, outside his office.

Blood dripped from my knuckles as I hammered on the door. The beats were fast and insistent, accompanied in my head by prayers that he'd open it soon. After around a minute of knocking, I slumped myself against the door, exhausted. Crying more softly now, I began to slide down the door.

When it opened, I fell onto the cold flagstones, my weight shifted unexpectedly. I was staring up at a shocked and horrified Snape in a plum coloured silk dressing gown.

"Stephanie, what's happened? Your face and...dress?" His words were low and his voice throaty with concern. I picked myself up off the floor to find I had no energy left. Expecting to feel the cold stones again, I was surprised when warm arms hoisted me up and onto the couch.

The movement slipped my ripped dress higher up my thigh. Mine and Snape's eyes were both drawn to the long scratches there. Immediately he realised the gist of things and gently, tenderly pulled a blanket over my body, saving my dignity. I don't think I've ever felt as much for him as I did at that moment.

He kneeled down and I could see his hair was wet, clinging to the sides of his face. There was a single droplet of water running down his nose like a tear. It opened my heart to see him vulnerable like this, no black robes, no haughty looks. Just Snape, but the real Snape. Then I laughed, a strange deranged sound. _I _thought _he_ was vulnerable. Here I was lying nearly half-naked on his sofa, covered by a only blanket and I thought _he_ was vulnerable?

"Who?" he said gently, "Who did this to you?" His hands stroked my hair like a father. Then again, what did I know about fathers.

"Cedric," the name tasted bitter in my mouth, like bile. Snape's onyx orbs widened in shock then narrowed in what I could only imagine to be anger. He went to get up, fists balled but I stopped him.

"Only it wasn't Cedric," my explanation didn't sound the most plausible, especially from my sore-from-screaming voice, "It was like he was..." I struggled for the right word to describe his unseeing eyes, "...possessed!" As I was saying it, I realised it was true, he had been like someone else in Cedric's body. A shiver of fear attacked my spine again and I held out my hand.

Cautiously, carefully he curled his long fingers around my own.

"I need to go to the headmaster Stephanie, so I'm going to leave you here," Again he tried to get up by I couldn't stop myself crying harder and holding his hand like a terrified baby.

"Please don't leave me..." my tongue longed to taste his first name, but even now something in his demeanour stopped me "Se-Professor Snape." The tiny verbal slip went unnoticed.

He didn't leave. Snape stayed with me, knelt down on the freezing floor, holding my hand until I passed out, falling into the pit of dark dreams. Though if I'm being honest, that only took a few minutes.

_A/N:__Sooooo, Cedric-haters I'm betting you're happier now? Love you all xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_


	15. Ulterior Motives

Ulterior Motives - Snape's POV

_A/N:Hey guys I've missed you all. Sorry it's taken a little longer updating, I had a MAHUSSIVE coursework piece. Thankyou once again to the best reviewers in the world Frankie and ask_

Golden liquid rocked in elegant waves across my crystal tumbler, as I gently tipped it side to side. Across the room from me was the woollen blanket, still adorned with the scent of grief, hurt and expensive perfume. A poignant mix. The evening had been one of the most stressful in my life, somehow in the space of just hours I had lost all control more times than I care to think about it.

The Yule Ball. I won't pretend that I had been looking forward to that dratted occasion. Oppositely, I had been dreading it. Pointless formalities, undeserved kindness and a dance with that she-witch Sinistra. I deeply regret I ever took pity on her, let her into my bed (luckily she has stayed firmly out of my head). Of course it wasn't particularly traumatic, I had wanted her, but the aftertaste of her clinginess has stretched so much further than I ever imagined. She was just the straw that broke the camel's back that evening.

I had prepared for that dance; I was ready to handle the irritation, the bitterness she was clearly hiding and my own resentment that she was not ready to let go. What I had not factored in was Stephanie. When she entered the room despite my good intentions, my progress in treating her like every other below-average student, I couldn't help being stunned. She looked...incredible. Like some glorious amalgamation of all that the devil could throw at me in the way of temptation.

The dress was short and low-cut, her high heels tensed her toned muscles and her skin shone like a glowing porcelain doll. Though yet again, what baited the breath of the evil desire inside me were her eyes. Shining like the most precious emeralds, they drifted across the room, scanning meticulously. By now she was dancing, sweeping around the floor in the arms of that buffoon.

Sinistra took my arm, and we began the stiff and choreographed piece. Suddenly, unexpectedly, Stephanie had caught my gaze, trapped me inside a world within a world. A place where time had no meaning, and our connection was all that mattered. Spiralling deep into this green place, I gasped for air and snapped out of it.

Something had changed within those precious seconds though; it was as if all my resolve had simply...dissolved. I wanted her. Immediately. To keep myself from stalking over and taking her there, I disentangled myself from Sinistra, ignoring her outburst. I stormed out of the room, but not without sweeping my eyes across to my entrancing student one more time. I could see my lust in her shocked look. The last thing I heard, as I slammed the doors of the Great Hall open, was a small squeak of pain. The urge to go back and check she was alright was far greater than I thought it would be. Nevertheless, I had to leave.

Back in my chambers, I splashed water vigorously on my flushed face and neck. Usually the mirror was an opponent, and battle commenced each and every day. But this night, it was my saviour. It showed how ridiculous my red-stained cheeks were, and a feeling of abject shame cooled me faster than ice ever could. My hands shook and I sat back down in my armchair, comfortably close to the alcohol.

_Severus Snape, _a quiet but deadly voice whispered in my ear_. _It rasped and moaned at , the monster had seen how Ihad looked at Stephanie. _I know how you feel... How much you want her. How you wish to taste those cherry lips..._I pinched the bridge of nose and rubbed my exhausted eyes. _What you don't realise is the key piece of knowledge. _"What?" I asked the question aloud and instantaneously felt foolish. What, I thought. _She wants __you__ just as much, if not more._

Ridiculous. _You know it's true. Remember that night, not so many lonely nights ago..._Desist, I ordered. I knew that misplaced action on her behalf had been a form of thanks, and relief she was still alive. There was no meaning behind it.

_Oh, but how wrong you are Severus. You know if that were true, then her precious eyes would not betray exactly __how__ hurt she was by your...rejection. _Kneading my forehead with my palm, I groaned and poured myself a large and potent drink.

To allow myself to think like this was madness, a sure route to evil. There were so many reasons why I had to suppress these feelings. Yet every time I did attempt to poison and destroy them, they sprang back, like a weed in a rose bed. Or perhaps a rose in a bed of weeds.

The analogy dragged the image of her body to mind. Stephanie's slim, beautiful legs danced in my mind. The virtual gaze drifted up her body, stopping on her breasts, and shamefully I felt arousal. Pulling myself out of the armchair with force, I ventured to the shower. Blasts of icy water pounded my stomach and thighs, and I washed my hair, thinking all the time of my last Potions lesson with the first years. Any arousal was swiftly removed. Those...things are not worthy of the human race.

Oh, to be young again. Every day I see her, I feel decrepit. Her youth shines from every pore of her face and even her clumsy movements shout out her age. The shower stream drizzled to a halt, and as it did I heard a muffled but persistent hammering. Hmm, it sounded quite far away...from my office door? Well of course, all the other doors to my chambers are magically hidden.

Slipping on my silk gown, I had gone to investigate, feeling a little self-conscious. Perhaps it's Sinistra..I'd thought to myself. Just as I reached the heavy oak door, the banging stopped. Cautiously I opened it. The girl slumped on my floor was sobbing too hard to hear my gasp. Doing a double-take, I stooped as none other than Stephanie tried to stand up. She swayed so hard, I threw my arms underneath her, bracing her from the grasp of the floor.

Saying that she was a mess would have been an understatement. Her face was what struck me first. Hair plastered to her head with rain, her eyes cold and broken and her cheek dripped blood from large grazes. As I placed her on the couch my eyes inevitably (and inexcusably) travelled down her convulsing body. With the strap of her dress broken, copious amounts of flesh was on display, and I struggled to control the most inappropriate thoughts. Up until the point when I placed her down on the couch, I hadn't noticed the four deep red grooves trailing up her thigh towards her pelvis.

That was the moment it hit me. Someone had assaulted Stephanie. Sensing her immediate discomfort when I noticed her bare legs, I pulled the blanket across her then kneeled down. Tenderly I stroked her hair. It felt right and I sighed gently, preparing myself to comfort her.

"Who?" I whispered, not trusting myself enough to raise my voice higher, "Who did this to you?" Her body was proof enough to catch whichever evil creature harmed her.

Ringing commenced in my ears as I heard her terrified whispered answer. The blood left all other parts of my body and travelled straight to my brain, hazing my vision red.

I repeated the loathsome name, then attempted to stand but her feeble hands tugged at my robe exposing chest. A nonchalant shrug adjusted my gown while her explanation spurted out. Hmmm, sounded like Polyjuice Potion...or maybe even the Imperius. Glazed eyes. It could have been from her attacker's raving lust. Inwardly I groaned, who was I to judge about inappropriate desires? Just an hour ago...Incredible, this girl had be comparing myself to a monster...though was I any better? Just because I didn't act on my thoughts didn't mean I did not have them. But I would never hurt her, not intentionally.

I pulled myself together, withdrawing my fingers from hers (how did they entwine?) and rising once more. Sobbing harder, she pulled me back down feebly and wished me to stay with her.

So that's what I did, until she fell into some exhausted slumber. My knuckles rubbed against my forehead as I gently took my fingers out of hers.

Walking quietly into the other room, I pulled on some suitable robes then threw a handful of green powder haphazardly into the fire place.

"Headmaster's Office." My voice was little more than a grunt. I took one step inside and vanished. Albus' feet came into view; my vision swirled once like a washing machine, then steadied.

"Severus!" Albus exclaimed clutching my shoulder, drink in hand. Minerva was there too, face red and looking very giggly.

"Professor Dumbledore. I have some very serious news," The jolly look in their eyes faded. Good, if I had to feel this terrible so should they.

"Go on Severus," the old man put down his glass (pumpkin juice, the lightweight) and offered me a chair.

"It's Stephanie..." Something was choking me and stealing my voice.

"You mean Miss Potter," the elder witch's Scottish voice interrupted.

"Yes Stephanie Potter...she's been attacked," They gasped and the headmaster took me by the shoulders.

"Who?" he whispered.

"Cedric Diggory, although she says he looked odd, possessed even. My reasoning is that someone used Polyjuice Potion on him,"

"The same person stealing ingredients from your stores," the older man paused and looked at me, thinking. He continued, "And up until now you thought it was Miss Potter,"

"Yes." I hesitated. "No...I'm not sure. But now it's settled. It can't have been Stephanie." My words were shaky.

Minerva looked intrigued and continued to stare at me, presumably entranced.

"What?!" I snapped at her.

"Nothing," she muttered, "So where is _Miss Potter_ now?"

My hand gestured to the fireplace and Dumbledore nodded serenely, looking the epitome of calm.

"What I think we must do is this. Find the real Mr Diggory, recast the spells his wand performed recently and search his dormitory for potion ingredients." The blue eyes twinkled as he turned to look at me.

"I think _you_ had better go and stay with Stephanie, Severus. Make sure she gets some comfortable sleep." He smiled kindly at me and my insides burned. What did the old coot know?

"But Albus," Minerva touched his hand, "Is it right that she should be sleeping down there...in the dungeons w- all alone."

I sneered at her, knowing that she longed to say 'with Snape'. Dumbledore went to speak but the monster in me replied before my mind could create an excuse.

"She'll be fine, I'll take the utmost care of her," the most sickening thing was that my voice sounded clear and sure. This evil creature inside me knew exactly what it wanted.

Bidding the older witch and wizard goodnight, with a swirl of green flame I was back in my rooms. The door to my office was still ajar and I couldn't resist going to look at her.

Stephanie's head was rested on her hand and wrists, like an infant and damp springy ringlets of hair covered her face. She'd curled up into a ball. Breezes blew from under the door and I watched her shiver in her sleep. Something tore inside me when I heard the tiny, cold whimpering sound and before I could regret it, I had swept her up in my arms and walked into the study.

The armchair was a possible choice to lay her on...no, too uncomfortable on the neck. Perhaps the chaise longue? No, far too small for her to stretch out. She sleepily draped her arms round my neck and nuzzled her head into my shoulder. Brown curls tickled my chin and gently, my lips brushed against them.

Rueing every step, I took her into another room. Silken covers were drawn back and I tenderly placed her on the bed, uncurling her arms from myself. She was lying on my bed. Under my sheets. My heart jumped into my mouth as I watched her, heaving silent breaths in her sleep. Small cries came suddenly from her as I attempted to pull off her shoes. Stephanie flailed and I turned to stone – making no movements until she was peaceful again.

Once her shoes were off, I pulled the covers back over and brushed her forehead with my hand. She felt cold. After lighting the fire, I pulled a chair in from my study and sat next to her, holding her hand.

How many nightmares she had I could not possibly count. Never before had I felt so helpless. The girl was clearly in mental agony, yet there was nothing I could do for her. So I sat there.

As the dawn birds started to chirrup, I rubbed my eyes and lifted her for the third and final time, marvelling at how light she was.

Guilt shrouded me as I placed her back on sofa. Stephanie would never even realise she had been anywhere else. The deceit felt bad, which was horrifying to me. For God's sake Severus, I told myself, you're head of Slytherin. These things usually come easy to you. Why do you feel so awful about lying to her?

This girl was a burden indeed, but one I was finding I could hardly function without.


	16. Bananas and Books

Bananas and Books - Stephy's POV

As I clawed my way to consciousness I realised I wasn't in Snape's offices anymore. The room was blurry. Blindly, I reached out and scrabbled for my glasses. Ahh, it was clear now, a large and airy room with many beds identical to the one I was laying upon...ahh the Hospital Wing. But of course, where else would I be?

Trailing my fingers over the graze on my cheek, I heaved myself up. Pain shot through the right-hand side of my stomach and cautiously, I lifted the bedclothes. I was in my pink bunny pyjamas (yes, embarrassing I know, but come on they were the only pair left in the shop)... (OK, that's a lie; I just really like cute PJs). But these had been on top of my bed...in a messy sprawl. I checked again. Clean underwear as well!

My breathing went into overdrive, and I drew in long shuddering breaths. H-had Snape...dressed me? It was almost impossible to think, but maybe. I forgot about looking for the source of my pain as an appealing daydream began.

A flash, then an image of him slowly drawing my ripped dress around my shoulders, his long fingers caressing my neck then further down. Tingling spread up my inner thighs as I imagined this seductive scene. Then there was a clicking of high heels and I snapped out of my arousal.

Madame Pomfrey came into view, looking as brisk and orderly as ever.

"Good, you're awake Miss Potter. How are you feeling?" As she talked, she placed a pitcher of orange juice on my bedside table, along with two long curved yellow fruits. Eww, bananas.

"Umm, OK I guess. My tummy hurts quite a lot." As I mumbled this, she pulled up my PJs and showed me a large purple-blue bruise on my abdomen.

"Oh." Wow Stephanie, you're so eloquent I told myself snappily. Rubbing my eyes I realised exactly how exhausted I still was, even after 12+ hours of sleep.

"Yes, well you went through quite an ordeal last night. It was very wise of Professor Snape to bring to me."

Gathering my courage, I asked her what I really wanted to know, "Uh, Madame Pomfrey...when Professor Snape brought me here, was I wearing. Umm, was I wearing this?" I gestured to the horrifying sleep-wear.

The Medi-witch raised her eyebrows at me and nodded, "Well of course dearie. What else?" She fluffed up my pillows and fed me two spoonfuls of some potion, which tasted sweet. Calmness flowed through my blood and my bruises began to hurt less.

"What about those?" I asked, gesturing to the hateful fruits that were on the table.

"Eat them up, for strength. They're the best source of quick energy," Before I could ask her if I could have a Pepper-Up Potion instead she said, "And we're all out of Pepper-Up. So eat up like a good girl or you can't leave until Tuesday."

Faced with this choice I decided that it would probably be best if I just ate the stupid things. I wanted to go see Hermione and Ron but I also wanted to see Professor Snape and Dumbledore. I definitely did not want to see Cedric. A shudder trickled down my spine and I felt my heart convulse in terror as I saw his angry eyes once more.

I shook my head, clearing my mind of those thoughts and picked up a banana. Aww come on who even liked these stupid fruits. Though I did once read in a girly mag that they were _excellent_ for practising a certain kind of sexual action on. Despite my tired state I giggled (perhaps because I was so knackered, maybe my brain was starved of oxygen?). Bananas really did have a use then. As everyone knows practise makes perfect.

Peeling away the fruit's coat, I slowly and cheekily inserted the tip in my mouth and sucked down its length. When I took it out I was pleased by the fact it had no teeth marks on. The magazine had said this was the most important part.

Laughing to myself I sucked on the banana again realizing that I actually didn't mind that much about the taste. It honestly didn't occur to me what a prat I looked like; I blame the lack of sleep.

The banana was about to enter my throat as I heard the uniform patter of steps coming down the hallway. I tried to take the banana out but had also gasped loudly at the same time, sucking it in.

Choking coughs jerked my throat as someone entered the room. Whoever it was was hidden from my view because my eyes had screwed up tight as I choked, attempting to get the stupid piece of fruit out. Suddenly, there was a hand propping me up, a familiar feeling, and strands of dreams about silk sheets and warm fires tied around my brain. A swift, sharp whack on my back.

With a popping sound, the banana flew out my mouth and onto the floor. I. Was. Mortified. Absolutely certain my face was an unattractive shade of purple, I hid under the duvet not even caring who was there anymore.

When the familiar voice spoke there was a hint of a smirk in it, though it was quite cold "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?"

"How could she professor?" My retort was muffled from under the warm quilt, but I peeped over to see Snape's eyes widen in suitable regret. There, that would teach him to sneak up on a girl while she was eating a banana.

"How are you feeling?" His voice had a more sombre tone now, though there was a curiously school-boyish twinkle to his eyes. When I blinked it was gone, hmm again I must blame the exhaustion.

"Much better than I was last night," I smiled up at him sheepishly. For some reason, there was no tension in the air and when he perched on the foot of my bed it felt right and his presence was welcome.

"I have some news about Diggory. Do you – Are you ready to hear it?"

I crawled out of the covers and sat cross-legged on the bed, nodding to him. Snape's eyes looked amusedly at my PJs again and I blushed. I moved up the bed, scooting closer and I could suddenly feel the warmth radiating off him, could smell his darkly seductive scent.

Suddenly I was aware that under my PJs I had no bra on and all illusions I had about who put my clothes on were gone. Snape wouldn't possibly have dressed me, I decided instantly. He may have looked at me in a lusty way (I think), but there was no chance in hell that he had seen me naked.

Must have been a House Elf (which isn't much better, but I really wouldn't mind that much if Dobby had seen me in my birthday suit, he's practically naked 24/7).

Thinking about my Potion's Master dressing me again had fogged my mind to the point where I had to try very hard to concentrate on his next words, and they were important ones.

"Mr Diggory was put under the Imperius charm. He has no memory of any events in the past 48-hours but we do not yet know the culprit. All spells were cast from his wand including some Cruciatus curses. You didn't mention..."As Snape was talking, my eyes had teared up, and he'd stopped when I began to sob gently.

It was all so ridiculous and scary, and snippets of last night plastered themselves on my eyelids and in my muscles. I could feel ghost-like stabs of the pain.

His hands fluttered around my shoulder momentarily, as if he wanted to hug me to him, but he didn't. I looked up at him. His eyes had deep purple grooves underneath and had turned cold, not in a hateful way, just lifeless. They also wouldn't meet my own. It was a drastic change from the wildness I'd seen just 12 hours ago.

"Professor what's wrong?" I said between sniffles.

"Nothing Stephanie. I am concerned for yo- your safety that's all. I must leave now."

With a swish of his cloak he was gone. Damn him to hell! Talk about mixed signals. One night you look at a girl as if you want to mount her right there on the dancefloor, then the next day you can't even bring yourself to meet her eyes. But it was not the time to be thinking about Snape and all the problems he dragged with him.

Cedric. Ok, so he hadn't ever tried to force me into anything of his own free will, but I would probably still see only one thing when I looked at him; his crazed eyes of last night.

Odd isn't it, most of my worries seem to revolve around how people look at me. Maybe we should have all been born blind. A whispered line drifted into my head, _In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. _

Pushing unwanted Greek proverbs out of my head, I tried to imagine if I could forgive Cedric. I _knew_ it wasn't his fault, but I couldn't think about him (well, the horrible him) without shaking in fear.

I ate the other banana in speculative peace, calling to Madame Pomfrey when I'd finished. She told me that she'd asked Hermione to bring me down some clothes, but that I looked more tired. She said she thought I needed longer to rest.

When the bushy-haired girl arrived, her eyes were red and swollen.

She rushed over to me and hugged me tight. "Harry I was so worried about you! I've been going nuts and then Dumbledore made an announcement at breakfast and it was terrifying. Ohmygod you look awful Harry, I can't believe you were-were nearly...you must have been so scared,"

My lungs were squeezed so hard in her well-meant hug that I couldn't get a word in edgeways. Luckily it wasn't very painful, whatever potion Pomfrey gave me must have worked really fast.

When she finally released me I gasped for air and then smiled at her. She was sat in exactly the same place Snape had just been.

I filled her in as well as I was able to, leaving out some of the more painful details and trying to tell her as matter-of-factly as Snape did. I _tried_ but I couldn't stop a few tears trickling down my face as I told her how cold and forceful Cedric had been, telling me that he wanted to kill me.

"It's so awful Harry, but you must remember not to think of this animal as Cedric. Yes, it looked like him but it _wasn't. _The real Cedric still loves you very much and is in such a confused state," Hermione's voice had dropped into a tone of quiet consolation mixed with a little lecturing.

Duh, I knew all of what she was saying was right and true but somehow even when I pictured Cedric's face, the soul of his hijacker shone through and Ced's loving and warm eyes became cold, hateful and angry.

I pressed my palms into my head as I spoke my carefully chosen words.

"Hermione do you think you could ask Cedric to...give me some space for a while, like a couple of weeks or something? Keep away...?" Cautiously, I looked up to see whether she looked approving. Her hazel eyes were thoughtful and after a moment she nodded.

"But he might be a little upset Harry, and there's no guarantee that your paths won't cross in the corridor accidentally."

Yet again Hermione was right, but it felt comforting to know that he wouldn't be in my face. Also, I needed time to come to terms with what had happened last night.

It would be a while before I could forgive Cedric which was totally unfair on him, but I just wanted to be away from him until my memories had subsided.

Hermione and Ron swapped places keeping me company (Madame Pomfrey had decided that I'd better stay in bed all day). Ron being the darling he is, brought up a game of Wizard Chess in which he ceremoniously kicked my ass.

"You might have let me win?" I pouted, punching him gently in the arm.

"Yeah but...you know this way it's more normal," the ginger grinned at me.

"Pfft," But he was right I did suck at wizard chess. When my time was up, Madame Pomfrey called that I could leave. Getting changed behind the screen I made Ron wait (blushing non-stop) while I shed my embarrassing PJs in lieu of some other more suitable clothing.

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with about a billion rumours when I walked in, and the noise seemed to drop completely and then rise to a roaring crescendo as my friends and acquaintances alike blustered around me in a horrible typhoon of noise.

I disentangled myself and heard Hermione making it very clear that they were to leave me alone, that no one would elaborate on what had been said at breakfast so they could all give up on interrogating me this very instant.

My heart swelled in feeling for the bossy teen, making me glad she was there to stick up for me.

While I flopped down on the sofa, Ron let in a very impatient Hedwig who had been tapping on the window. A snowy white bullet rocketed towards me and the affectionate creature nipped me gently on the ear and settled on the arm of the sofa.

As I uncurled the piece of parchment I recognized the familiar handwriting and my heart soared. The letter read:

_Dear Stephanie,_

_I dearly hope you aren't injured too badly – Albus said there were only cuts and bruises but still. It makes my blood boil to think they haven't caught the bastard that hurt you. Please, please be more careful Stephanie, I don't know how I'd cope with the guilt if something happened to you. Don't roam the corridors alone, don't go out after dark and don't let yourself be alone with __anyone_ _for too long. _

_I love you so much, Sirius x_

Little puddles of tears splashed on the page. How many tears can one person cry in such a short space of time? Sirius' raw, hastily scribbled emotion had touched my heart.

Hermione (who'd been reading over my shoulder) hugged me to her and rocked gently while Ron gently patted my arm. I was aware that there were other eyes on the room still locked on me so I made a swift exit (claiming that I wouldn't be attending dinner because I wasn't hungry) then wandering back up to the dorms alone.

As I looked around the room I noticed there was an unopened pile of presents at the foot of my bed. Of course, it was Christmas day! Unwrapping them without much enthusiasm I collected: some homemade foodstuffs from Mrs Weasley and Hagrid, a crumpled-up tissue from the Dursleys (Wow, just what I wanted. It always made me wonder, did they do this every year just for a laugh, or because they genuinely though this was what I wanted/deserved), several bits and bobs from Hermione (girly stuff) and a book about Krum from Ron (though now, Hermione would probably want this more than I did).

All in all it was a good haul, but the unwrapping had knackered me out so when I eventually flopped down on my bed (it was good to be back somewhere so familiar) I passed out almost immediately.

So, even though I thought it wouldn't, life went on. Sometimes I'd walk past an empty classroom and experience a sudden spasm of fear, but that didn't happen very often. Plus, the school holidays were passing far too quickly for my liking. I'd learnt through Hermione that Cedric had returned home for their duration so there was no possible way I'd have to meet him, which doubled my happiness.

Hermione, Ron and I passed the time in true style, mildly misbehaving by taking secret trips to Honeydukes and Hogsmeade even though Sirius had forbade going out alone.

It was only after the zillionth time of telling Hermione that we'd have each other did she agreed to come. Occasionally, the (smaller?) invisibility cloak exposed a foot or two but that only increased the fun.

Passing wizards and witches obviously thought they were going mad when they saw a solitary foot walking about on its own.

All too quickly, it was time for the second term to begin and I dreaded seeing Cedric around. On the up-side though for once I was up to date on all homework, not having Quidditch or a boyfriend to distract me. However there was one thing deeply set in my mind as I started the new term.

Professor Severus Snape. Aww man was I a teenager with an obsession or what? I'd seen him nearly every day during the holidays at breakfast and always, always, wanted him to look at me with the _lust_ that he had on the night of the Yule Ball.

Or with friendship, or concern or anything. Technically I still wasn't allowed to his offices if it wasn't an emergency but every single day I longed to go down and see him. You know the sort of thing, have some meaningless conversation about potions or pet his ego (and no I don't mean that as a double-entendre despite the hilarious thoughts I had while eating the infamous banana).

Hard as I tried to shake the stupid idea that Snape actually wanted me, I couldn't. The thought was like a limpet, clinging to the hope I had left that there could possibly be something between us even after he'd pushed me away.

After countless mornings during the hols trying to capture his attention from things as drastic as pretending to faint, to subtly low cut tops and short skirts, I gave up. I'd gone down all the usual routes. It seemed that the only way to grab this man's attention (if not his heart) was through Potions. Yes, ridiculous as it sounded I started studying. Hard.

Of course, Hermione approved of the change in my habits; in fact she was thrilled (she had a library buddy now!). Ron on the other hand was a little harder to win round.

The first time he caught me in there with her (he'd wanted to go sneak down to Honeyduke's, sort out his choc-addiction) he'd gone ballistic, spouting the odds about Snape not being worth it, that I was wasting the holidays in this...well I won't repeat what he really said because it earned him a fiery life-time ban from Pince, the librarian.

Suffice to say, it contained a fair amount of expletives.

Worst thing is, if it were a couple of months ago, I would have been disgusted by the person I'd turned into. Someone swotting up for Snape's class? Yeurgh. And I'm not sure my parents would have been too happy either, definitely not my father.

Disregarding all my doubts about whether it was the right thing to do, I forced myself through the endless tomes of the history of potion-making, the art of potion-making, the skills you need to be a potions Master and all about the Potions Master's Guild.

As I read more and more, I felt myself becoming dragged in by this mysterious world of crushing, slicing, brewing. I started to understand why Snape got so pissed when people didn't take it seriously. People like me. Because it is a big deal, and (it really pains me to admit this) pretty interesting.

Snape may be an awesome Potions Master (I discovered his name in quite a few books, feeling my heart do a stupid skip every single time) but he really took away all the magic when he taught it. His vocation in life was definitely not meant to be teaching. He should be out there...I don't know, researching incredible new cures for incurable wizard diseases.

So I continued this new regime of study and even managed to look up some stuff about golden eggs. Unfortunately that was a dead end, but I persevered. The next task was drawing ever closer though and I started having nightmares about various different deaths.

The only day I didn't study (or sleep actually) was the day Ron and I overheard a rather interesting conversation between Madame Maxine and our dear old Hagrid.

Ginge (otherwise known as O, he of red-head and sulky heart) and I were planning to go do some covert flying on the outskirts of the forest when we heard a flowery but booming laugh. Quickly, the two of us dived between some sheltered shrubs.

"Ah 'Agrid you do make ze best jokes I 'ave ever 'eard!" The incredibly large woman chuckled again and slapped the big man on the arm as they came into view. If I had been anyone else, I'm sure they would have fallen over.

"Yer, I think I gets that from me mother's side of the family. She wus a great woman, thass what me father always said, especially for her kind. But you'd probably know that best o' all," Hagrid looked up at her adoringly.

"Excusez-moi? I am very sorry 'Agrid but I do not catch ze drift as you say..." The French woman's eyes were clouded with confusion.

"Well, yuh know on account of you being half-giant. Like me," I only just stopped my gasp but it wouldn't have mattered if I hadn't. Maxine's gasp of outrage was louder than any noise Ron or I could have made. Her cheeks began to shake and blush with rage.

"I 'ave never been so inzulted in all my life! 'Ow dare you, I am not zome filthy 'alf-breed!" With that the gargantuan raging bitch stormed off, steam practically pouring out her ears.

I went to follow the crushed-looking Hagrid, but Ron grabbed the back of my robes, shaking his head. On second thoughts, he was probably right. Hagrid wouldn't want to know we'd overheard that, he was ashamed enough already.

Our journey back to the castle was a little more animated than our trip out. I mean a half-giant? That was a pretty major discovery. Hagrid's huge but I'd always thought his parents must have been HUGE. I didn't realise exactly how big.

Weirdly enough, Hermione wasn't that shocked.

"I'd guessed as much if I'm being honest," she said, simply. I gawked at her.

"And you didn't think this was a theory we'd want to know?" My voice was reasonably tainted with anger, why had she kept this to herself?

Hermione put her hands up in defence at Ron's accusatory glare, "I just assumed it's what you guys thought too!"

With a short harrumph, Ron sat down on one of the big squashy sofas in the common room.

"Last day of the holidays..." the grumpy ginger muttered dispassionately.

"Mmm," I nodded and decided it was time for some last minute bedtime Potions swotting before tomorrow's lesson (Double Potions on a Monday morning, boy the teachers sure knew how to win a pupil's heart). When everyone else was getting ready to sleep, I opened a tome on the how the art of potion-making has been perfected over the years.

It wasn't as taxing as I expected. As I lay on my comfy bed, sniffing in the delicious smells of Mrs Weasley's homemade mince pies I was eating (being so careful not to get any on the library books) I actually settled into the peaceful rhythm of soaking in information.

After a while though, my brain felt a little clogged up, my eyelids drooping occasionally. I checked the clock and had to stifle a gasp. It was four o'clock in the morning. Shit, I was not a morning kind of person! Oh dear sweet Merlin tomorrow was going to be Hell.

Disregarding what I said about library book etiquette I chucked them all on the floor and raced to change into my pyjamas.

HermHI knew that the following day's lesson were going to be a disaster. Fact is, I find it hard enough to get out of bed anyway. Urgh! Desperately trying to fall asleep I resorted to counting sheep, which morphed into red lizards which changed into huge terrifying dragons.

But by then I was asleep.

I was right. After only three and a half hours sleep my eyes were gummed shut with the desire to climb straight back into my warm, embracing sheets. Damn Snape. This, yet again, was his fault. If only he wasn't so damn...well likeable. It was the last thing I expected, but the older man just filled me with so much curiosity. And the way he made me feel when we touched...there aren't any words to describe it well enough.

Hermione had to yank the covers off me three times before I agreed to let her help me get dressed. I was that horrible cranky toddler tired where you hate everyone and everything. Every time she pulled on a sock or shirt I wanted to hit her for touching me. It was inexplicable cos the only thing left in my foggy brain was the desire for sleep.

"Come on Harry we're going to be late for Potions if you don't hurry up!" Hermione's hurried words sped up my actions a little bit.

By the time we were finally down in the dungeons (only ten minutes late) I had grown even more irritable and Hermione had hit me about three times. When the bushy-haired swot (yeah, I told you I was in a horrible mood) knocked on the door, everything went silent.

The sounds of idle chatter (which weren't that loud to begin with in Snape's class) died completely. A strange chill crept up my spine. I had the horrible feeling that even though I'd trusted Snape in an emergency, he wasn't going to extend any generosity here.

Menacingly, the door swung open and Snape, with a face darker than night stormed out.

"Miss Potter," Snape spat my name, "Do you think it acceptable to turn up late for your first lesson on the first lesson back?" His eyes glittered dangerously, but it my current state I wasn't afraid of him.

"It's only ten minutes," I said tartly, giving Hermione a scathing look when she gasped. Please, just please. I mean who's that scared of teachers?

"_Only ten minutes?_" Snape emphasised every single syllable, nostrils flaring (scarily like a dragon) and mouth near foaming, "Perhaps it is necessary to teach you exactly how much can be learnt, taught...or indeed, _achieved_ in ten minutes. Report to detention at seven o'clock."

Hermione was near tears by now, even though the surly Potions Master had been directing his anger at me. He gestured angrily for her to go into the classroom, but when I went to follow he held me back, by the collar of my robes.

He leaned in, and the heat of his body pressed close to mine as he leant down.

"Just because I afforded you the luxury of my office when you were indisposed, it does not mean you are _favourite or special," _Snape hissed in my ear.

"Bite me," I snapped back and if I given my ridiculously tired state, I couldn't decide whether the feel of teeth grazing my lobe was real or born of wishing. _ HoH_


	17. Control

Control (Snape & Stephanie's view alternately, changing with each black line)

_A/N: __I have missed you guys SO MUCH :) I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that you have a lovely easter. Massive apologies for not updating sooner. I love you all xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

I regretted the desire to clamp my teeth hard on her ear the moment I felt it. However I couldn't stop myself gently grazing her soft skin. The insolent girl turned, eyes wide as a rabbit in wand-light, but she then blinked her groggy lids and looked confused.

Swiftly I pushed her through the door, wishing I could treat her like any other pupil. Wishing she was just any pupil and wishing with all my being that there was nothing between us. No jury in the land could fault my actions towards her...the ones she remembered.

Oh Merlin she was sat right at the front of the classroom, so close to me that I could smell the sweet scent that clung to all her clothes.

Nevertheless I attempted to complete the lesson without distraction.

The previous evening, feeling wrathful and perturbed, I had formulated a very nasty, very hard and very obscure pop quiz. It was time to use it.

I greedily ate up the hateful and shocked looks of the class, even that bastard Malfoy looked surprised and questioned me with his pale face.

I simply threw his test on the desk and went to sit back down. But I noticed something astounding. Instead of the predicted obvious horror and hate on Potters face, there was...smugness?

Slowly her droopy eyes met my own and she smiled an impish, mocking smile, and then hastily began scribbling down answers. Around her the other students were in various states of panic or disinterest.

The smart-ass Granger looked near tears and I sneered in her direction. But Stephanie was still writing with a smile on her face.

This was absurd. She couldn't know twelve different ways to skin a basilisk, or exactly how many different potions contained the key ingredient Wrackspurt venom. And the section on alchemy...well I hadn't even told them to study that at all.

How had she written with such confidence and speed? After an hour the students packed up and began to file out muttering what they thought were quiet death threats. Even the Slytherins looked malevolent.

"Potter!" I snarled letting the anger I that had been brewing recently bubble up, "Come back here."

She paled a little but walked over to the desk and looked around. The classroom was empty except for her and me. Cheekily, she jumped atop the oak table, swung her legs and challenged me with her eyes.

"Yes Snape," she said in a voice that was almost bored, "What ridiculous notion do you want to blame me for this time?"

"Turn out your pockets," she stared into my eyes defiantly but after some of my patented glowering she slowly and sullenly pulled the fabric of her inner robe outwards, sending one solitary piece of parchment fluttering down. Damnit.

The contents of Stephanie's pockets were unimpressive; dust, a letter from her dog-father and her wand.

"I didn't cheat professor," she said quietly, looking up wide-eyed, truly awake. The swinging motion of her legs stopped dead and her voice was defiant and firm, even playful. "And I want you to stop being such a git to me,"

"What?" I knew my own dangerously quiet voice discouraged any further talking on her part but she took a deep breath and continued. Just like the arrogant foolish Potter she was.

"Don't act dumb Snape, you know that there's more to you and I than meets the eye," she was swinging her legs again, and clenching her jaw as if determined to spew a speech she'd been planning for a long time.

"You may act like a bastard ninety percent of the time, and may I add a massive bastard, at that" She said and my fists clenched involuntarily.

But the stupid girl continued feeding my monster with the lies it needed to hear; "But there's so much more to you than that, and I think I've only recently realised it. I _like_ you professor, I really do."

She breathed again, long and deep, "And I think you like me too, which is why you're being such a git...am I close?"

She was right, so right. It touched the rawest of nerves and I had the impulse to take her in my arms and ravish her right there, even though the thought was deplorable. My heart wasn't in it this time as I locked my monster away, and I could feel it growing bigger and stronger and greedier.

Her eyes were more timid now; the fire with which she'd started speaking had diminished.

"What an intriguing theory. And so beautifully put. You know Potter it almost makes one wish it wasn't a pile of dragon droppings," A malicious laugh escaped my lips.

Stephanie looked up, almost pleading with me not to say what I was about to.

"You're an idiot Potter, attaching yourself to any male just because you lost dear daddy. Lupin, Dumbledore, _Black. _How could you think they'd ever love you when you caused the death of your parents? You're _pathetic." _My breathing was sharp and short and fast, my heart pounding with regret. _You're pushing her away, _the beast screamed, ripping at my chest.

Her eyes had gone blank and her lips were quivering. When I thought she was about to burst into tears she stood up, and walked to me steadily, emerald orbs flashing with some unnamed emotion. Her hands brushed against the material of my cloak.

"Once you've finished trying to _delude_ yourself into thinking you hate me and all that bollocks, we should talk. And I'd be careful about who you call pathetic. People in glass houses and all that..."

Her eyes were fiery and her voice clear as she took off, robe swirling and a grim grin of triumph on her delicate features.

"Seven o'clock Potter. Don't forget," hoarsely I tried to repaint the boundaries of student and teacher.

Yet she tore them down once again, "Oh I won't Snape. It's a date," With a coy smile and a flick of hair she was off, practically skipping down the corridor.

I often wondered to myself what I saw in such a self-satisfied, insufferable brat.

* * *

Running, I caught up with Ron and Hermione who looked angry and devastated in turn. Hermione was so pale I almost mistook her for a ghost.

I, on the other hand, was flushed and upset and excited and confused all at the same time. In fact my head was such a swirling mess of emotions that I was totally unprepared when Cedric walked straight into me.

I looked up at him and flinched, taking three steps back, putting comfortable distance between us once more.

"Stephy! I've missed you so much, you look amazing," the innocent boy gushed at me but I shied away from the sound of his voice, and the strength of his frame.

"Cedric," I whispered, "Hi," The loving look in his eyes made me uncomfortable. It was just so different from the hatred I'd seen.

"How are you Steph?" he said, stepping forward and touching my cheek. I flinched back flailing my arms.

"Don't touch me!" My squeal reverberated back off the high ceiling and Hermione and Ron turned to stare.

Cedric began to say my name but I shook my head and told him what I'd known ever since the night of the Yule Ball, "Cedric. I'm so sorry but...we can't be together,"

Despite my fear I was still choked up, Cedric has been so good to me and now I was dumping him for something that was far beyond his control.

"What?" His voice was small and sad, like a little lost boy. I wanted so much to hug him but the memory of that night was like a wall between us. Instead, I looked at the floor, feeling ashamed.

"I'm sorry it's not you, it's me," Ugh that sounded horribly clichéd, yet it was the truth.

"No!" Suddenly Cedric's voice rang out loud and clear, anger seething in his tones.

"Cedric I can't be with you because, because of everything, you know..." He was looking at me with desperation and fury, and my voice faltered. He stepped towards me again (I hadn't even realised I'd stepped away)

"No! I don't _know,_" he threw my words back at me, then paused taking angry deep breaths, "It's Snape isn't it!"

I could feel the blood rushing from my face. What? How did he know how I felt...? Shit was it really that obvious? No, no, no what was I going to do?

He continued, "Or Dumbledore! They've turned you against me, told you I didn't fight the Imperius!"

I breathed a sigh of relief and Cedric looked at me questioningly, but I decided to finish this. No-one knew my secret and that made me feel suddenly powerful. Arrogance is not a huge trait of mine but I firmly told myself the truth, _you're the Girl who Lived and you can stand up to this boy. _

"Cedric, I don't love you. I can't love you. Sorry, but I don't want to do this. Please stay away from me," I began to walk forwards, shaking with spent feelings but he caught me by the arm and dragged me back. Alarm bells ricocheted around my head as his strength was more obvious.

He hissed, mouth close to my ear so Ron and Hermione couldn't hear what he was saying "People think you're so wonderful, but really you're just a self-centred bitch who got famous and arrogant off her parents' death. "

I slapped him so hard he reeled back, but before I could draw my wand and hex him into tomorrow, a red jet of light blasted him against the wall of the corridor.

Cedric slumped back, head lolling and groaning. What the fuck? My wand wasn't even out of my pocket...

Then I remembered the powerful wand-less magic that I'd been able to perform when I was only eleven, often pounding dear old Dudders straight into some hard object. It hadn't happened in years and it never usually produced any magical jets of light. Maybe my magic was getting stronger...

I felt calmer now and walked to him with purpose.

"Stay away from me Cedric Diggory. And if you ever, ever talk to me like that again, I'll hex you into a coma so deep you'll be St. Mungo's for the rest of your life," my voice was low and hard and cold. It didn't feel right, but I had to do it.

Something in his eyes told me he understood the threat perfectly, even in his dazed state. Hermione and Ron rushed to my side, fluttering and fussing like agitated birds. I gave them a loaded look, which meant I'd tell them everything when we were away from this scumbag.

As we started to walk away, a scuffling sound made me turn. Diggory was standing up, clutching his sides. Good, maybe he'd felt a fraction of the pain I had at his words.

"Prefects bathroom, take the egg, have a swim," he muttered hoarsely.

I looked at him with such disgust that he recoiled, but he tossed a piece of paper with the bathroom's location and password on it anyway.

Well, after all this turmoil I was bound to need a long soak. I took the parchment and slid it in my robe's pocket without a word, or even look at Cedric.

Hermione looked at me anxiously but I just turned her away and we began a steady sprint to History of Magic. Luckily old Binns was none the wiser when we walked in 15 minutes late.

* * *

Cold stone pressed against my back as I stood there, heaving with rage, wand in hand.

This was ridiculous. How had I been so blind with anger towards that Diggory boy, when only moments ago I had said much the same thing? If not something even worse...

_But you didn't mean it and that little bastard did. _The monster, which had grown big and inflated, was infiltrating my thought pattern again, feeding me what I wanted to hear.

When I next looked, the Trio (as most of the staff and students in Hogwarts called Potter and her little sidekicks) had gone and Diggory was limping away. This was all too much, perhaps I should give in my resignation.

I'd let Malfoy get away with saying far worse things to her over the years, yet somehow the look of complete pain on the girl's face had caused my professorial manner to dissipate, along with any remaining sense.

Cursing a student. What now? I looked up, and realized I'd been walking while my thoughts swirled around me in an indistinguishable bubble.

The corridors were empty, the students all in their lessons or common rooms. I stopped, steadying my breath and realised what I must do. It physically pained me, but it was necessary.

Dumbledore.

I was already at the statue blocking his stairway, feverishly panting and head getting clearer by the second. I needed to know what to do, and Dumbledore usually had the answers.

"Coconut Cocoons," The marble came to life, moving smoothly out my way.

I took the stairs two at a time. Before I could hammer on the door it swung open, and Dumbledore was stood there, with a mixture of pity and understanding in his twinkling blue eyes.

Aware my expression was on the more stormy side of thunderous, I tried the deep breathing exercises that Minerva had been prattling on about. As on many, many other occasions, the old bat was wrong. The oxygenated air fuelled my anger.

"Severus," Albus said, his voice halfway between warning and concern, "Take a seat, I had a feeling I'd be seeing you soon,"

His words surprised me, knocking some anger out and so I sat on a comfortable armchair in the middle of the room, feeling out of sorts.

"Drink this," again it was half-command, half-plea. The hot beverage he passed me smelt of citrus and was mildly soothing. Going against my inherent suspicious nature, I gulped down the boiling brew.

Calmness spread through me from head to toe, tingling along every nerve in my body. Dumbledore smiled and offered a tin of odd biscuits. I less-than-politely reclined.

"Severus, before you speak think very carefully about what it is you wish to say to me," the headmaster spoke softly, head tilted in an understanding manner.

I wanted truthfully to tell him very little, but there was a small look in his eyes suggesting he knew more than he had led me to believe. After a minute or two's silence he looked straight into my eyes.

"It's about Miss Potter," there was no hint of a question, and the idea that he knew the dark thoughts locked deep in me was terrifying.

Resolve crumbling, I met his now-serious eyes and said, "Yes. I want her Albus. I want her and it's turning me into a monster,"

Damnblast_fuck__it. _I'd just admitted to the headmaster that I had sexual attraction to an underage student, something not acceptable even in the wizarding world.

As if reading my thoughts the headmaster let out a deep sigh and said quietly, "There is always an exception to the rule. And in most cases, that exception goes by the name Miss Stephanie Potter"

What? Was he saying that I...that these _feelings _were acceptable, justifiable even. Again, using his intuitive skills (no doubt that are derived from being on this planet for over 100 years) he continued.

"Severus. I am neither condoning nor forbidding your actions, whatever they may be. I trust your judgement and control in this matter," His words were sincere, interspersed by little sips of tea.

How could he put his trust in me, a Slytherin, a 'traitor' in the eyes of so many? Of course none of their opinions mattered to me, but what if I could not trust myself...

Shaking slightly I rose from the chair and began to pace the room, attempting to walk out this confusion over a _girl. _

"And anyway Miss Potter and yourself have always had somewhat of an obsessive relationship," the old man twinkled over his half-moon spectacles. How did he manage to look world-wisely and like a fucking sprite at the same time? Such a feat should be impossible.

"Obsessive?!" I spat the word towards some odd glass trinkets that looked useful but were most likely bought on a ridiculous whim. There was something in the headmaster's eyes that was too close to truth, and maybe judgement.

"From time to time the line between hate and lo-"his next words were broken off by the tinkling of smashed glass.

"Don't say it," I whispered, looking at the glass shards in my hands, comprehending that I'd crushed the headmaster's strange device.

"Let me rephrase that, and replace _that_" the old man looked anxiously at the broken glass, then to his other knick-knacks and continued, "Sometimes it gets hard to distinguish emotions be they negative or positive when they are as strong as what is between you and Miss Potter," The white-haired man sighed with relief as I sat back down in the armchair, away from his toys.

Raising an eyebrow I asked, "So you think there is some...emotion between us?"

Albus wearily placed his cup on the mahogany desk. "There always has been Severus,"

I nodded, remembering the abject hatred I had felt when the arrogant child first appeared in my classes. Thinking of classes I glanced up at the ornate silver grandmother clock mounted on the wall. It was time for my sixth year class.

My body felt drained, as if merely talking with the headmaster had sucked the life force out of me. Yet there was still a pulse of excitement as I realised in a few hours, I would be seeing Stephanie. Alone, in my office.

If she came, that was.

* * *

The fire crackled merrily, a hearty Gryffindor red-gold and I sat warming my feet while trying to finish a damned History of Magic Essay. I had been trying the same vein for about an hour now, so quiet I think Ron and Hermione had forgotten I was there.

Of course they had, _they _were snuggled up together on the sofa nearly touching legs. They had their noses in the same book and had been reading just as long as I'd been (attempting to) write. I'm sure given the time Hermione would pretend to doze off on Ron's shoulder. Actually, her eyes were getting a little droopy.

I coughed as a joke, but they jerked apart like someone had stuck an electric rod up their butts.

"Harry!" Hermione spluttered, "Why the hell aren't you at Snape's detention?!"

Ron looked just as flabbergasted. Aw shit! I should have been at detention a good hour and a half ago. Well, there was absolutely no point going now, Snape would be crazier than a wild dog.

I'd wanted to see him alone so badly...

Shit. I dropped my head in my hands. Talk about stress, couldn't there be just one week where I didn't end up facing a dragon of some sort. Because I tell you, one of Snape's patented glares could rival a Hungarian Horntail any day.

Maybe what I needed was a bath. Yeah, a nice long relaxing soak in some warm water. Dealing with Snape's doubled wrath tomorrow might be a little easier if I got some good relaxation time.

Making the decision, I told Hermione and Ron who wholeheartedly disagreed and agreed with me respectively. I took the stairs to the girls dorm three at a time and hastily pulled the Cloak over my head, stuffed wand, egg, dressing gown and Marauder's Map in a satchel and made my way out the common room.

The corridor on the fifth floor where the painting of the pears was (like Cedric had said) was lit with small oil lamps, which flickered gently, casting shadows on the walls.

Pears sat in their bowl unmoving on the canvas, which was weird for Hogwarts. I walked towards them and whispered the password. Noiselessly the portrait swung inwards and revealed a small stone porch-type alcove.

All was quiet, so with one quick check of my map, I stepped into the cool entrance. There were piles of fluffy white towels piled in heaps on the side of a low shelf, with numerous sizes of robes hung above them.

Smiling at the soft cushy feel of the towels, I grabbed a handful and continued through the elegant stone archway.

It had to have been the biggest bath-pool crossbreed I'd ever seen. It was giant, shaped like a donut with a central cylinder of white marble covered in about a hundred taps, each with little labels on them. Even with my glasses on I couldn't read them; there was so much steamy water between the taps and me.

Gingerly I undressed, feeling a little out-of-place and tense. All that slipped away once my body hit the silky, hot water. It felt like a bath of calm, and I relaxed all the way under the water, forgetting my glasses were still on my nose.

When I emerged my vision was hazy with steam and dots of condensation, but I swam to the intriguing taps and began the read the labels.

Citrus Sunshine, Lilac Lotion, Jasmine Jolt, Honey Heaven, Strawberry Dreams, there must have been about two hundred of these crazy little taps. Slowly, I turned the Citrus Sunshine one on.

A gloopy, thick yellow liquid trickled from the iron spout, producing large and lush-smelling buttercup-yellow bubbles. Giggling, I splashed around feeling like a little kid. I picked a few more delicious scents, let the taps run for a few minutes, and then relaxed into my very foamy, very fragrant bath.

I lay back on the raised ledge of the now-colourful water, feeling calm and for once de-stressed. Gold sparkles glinted off the egg that was on the side next to me and I reached for it. The weight seemed less than before and as I pondered what to do, I accidentally unleashed the clasp.

Horrible shrieking filled the air but there was a new tone to it, and as I looked around I saw Moaning Myrtle drifting towards me, yelling her dead head off. I slammed the egg shut, still hearing high-pitched resonance.

"You really are dumb," Moaning Myrtle drawled, "Handsome Ced put it IN the water..."

My body jolted at his name and her unexpected help but I duly stuck the stupid 'secret-holding' egg under the bubbly foam. All I heard was a strange gurgling noise and I sighed. Stress was certainly starting to build up again.

"By Merlin you'd think with an intelligent friend like yours Potter, you'd learn something. Stick your head in too!" The dead schoolgirl pouted at me and stuck her icy hand on the top of my head.

Keen to get away from the horrible feeling of cold, I dived under the water and was immediately captured by the haunting voices of the egg.

"_Come seek us where our voices sound, _

_We cannot sing above the ground_

_An hour long you'll have look_

_To recover what we took"_

It made no sense to me but I felt a molten sense of elation course through me. Finally I had a clue, after months of feeling absolutely useless it was good to have something to focus on. I listened to it a couple more times until it was memorised.

Bath drained, ghost girl banished and body dried (and smelling lovely) I put on my silky robe and headed back out. The corridors were quiet but I found my eyes drifting to the map, in particular to the lower dungeons.

Hmm? That was weird. Bartemius Crouch... in Snape's office? That old sourpuss had been away since...well for ages. What the heck was he doing in Snape's office?

I _tried_ to go back to the common room, I really did, but that typical Gryffindor sense of curiosity was eating away at me and I felt pretty sure that I needed to go check this out. So I did.

Tucking the map back in my satchel, I ran down flights of steps recklessly and was in the freezing dungeons in no time at all.

The lamps in the dungeons were all out, shades of shadows everywhere. But I could vaguely see that Snape's office door was slightly ajar. A cloak's rustle sounded from very close by and I crept towards the opening. What the hell was Mr. Crouch playing at?

Cautiously, I stepped closer. With one hand I swung the door inwards and walked forwards. A hand grabbed my throat, choking me, squeezing hard. Panic tensed my muscles as a wand-tip dug into my skull and I tried to scream, but couldn't. It was getting difficult to breathe and in a sudden impulse, I swung my satchel hard as I could into my attacker's face.

A muffled grunt and a sickening cracking sound rebounded off the stony room. Wait. I recognised that voice. And it was nothing like Mr Crouch.

"Shit, Snape are you Ok?" My voice was shaky. I had just broken the Potions Master's nose (probably the sixth or seventh time that had happened to him).

"Potter?" his voice was like a growl. Oh shit shit fuck, he was going to _really _hate me now.

Anxiously I cast a _Lumos_ and lit the candles in the room with a few hasty flicks of the wand. Now there was light in the room I turned to look at Snape.

"Oh, fuck," I whispered. His already-wonky nose was bent and so much blood was dribbling out it looked as if he had been beaten up by a gang. Purply bruises were forming around his eye as well.

Not knowing how he would react, I put my hand out and led him gently down to his leather couch. Weirdly enough he only shot me a dirty glare, pulled away and walked over to the couch himself.

Headless as a chicken I looked for a rag to clean him up (it only made sense, since I was the one who'd caused this) and realised I'd kept a towel from the bathroom. One dampening spell later I had something to clean him up with.

Feeling sick with worry, I stepped towards the dour-looking man. His hair framed his long face and stuck where the blood had dried. Snape didn't seem to be talking much, so I did what any brave Gryffindor would never have dreamed of doing.

I went and sat next to him. I sat up straight, my damp ringlets falling in my eyes and I gently wiped some of the blood away from the side of his face. There were suddenly no words in my head, only an intense longing to touch him, to feel more of the warmth that was coming off his body in waves.

I'd leant closer and could smell the musky delicious scent that was wafting from him. Snape winced as I dabbed at his nose, but didn't push me away, and I was sure he felt my need to help him. Blood had stopped coming out his nose, and I had cleaned most of it away so I dropped the rag and began to stroke his slightly stubbled cheek instead.

His head span so we were eye-to-eye and he grabbed my wrist. The feeling of his strong powerful fingers linking all the way around my wrist sent shivers of sensation up my spine.

"No," his voice was low and firm but something in his eyes told me a different story.

I leant over him, stroking his cheek again with my free hand and (in a fit of slutty daring) climbed onto his lap. Snape's muscles went rigid. I could feel the absolutely complete tension beneath the silky layer of my gown and the coarse cotton of his clothing. My breathing was short and sharp, my face only inches away from his.

Lids closed in some unknown feeling, I wondered if Snape wouldn't or couldn't look at me. It was magnetic, the attraction I felt for him. It was also inexplicable and inappropriate but when I put my lips to the grainy skin of his cheek, and leant my body against his chest, the sigh that escaped him banished all my worries.

Snape's skin felt rough and rugged underneath my lips, but it was burning hotter than anything I'd felt before.

His hand gripped mine, still with smouldering intensity, and he pulled me closer towards him, his breath coming in hasty, clipped bursts. I clasped his robes with my free hands, feeling the sinewy muscle on the slight frame.

Snape's eyes snapped open and he cupped my face with his hands as I leaned into his touch. His thumbs brushed against the edge of my lips, and his other fingers tangled in my damp hair. Electric feverish jolts spread from his digits through my body.

He was pulling me in, and I could feel his warm breath on my face and his arousal through our close bodies. I thought that what was going to happen was as inevitable as dawn and dusk, the cycles of the moon and sun. My world was an intense heat haze, my whole body begging for his lips on mine.

So it felt like an icy bucket of water had been tipped on me when there were repeated raps on the door. Within seconds Snape had brushed me off and stood holding the collar of my dressing gown.

Nearly inaudibly he whispered, "I heard a noise, caught you sneaking around, you are being severely punished,"

"Yeah I fucking am," my whispered reply was more of frustration than anger and I felt mad tears roll down my cheeks. Why at every possible moment when I could actually kiss him was it taken away from me? And he wanted it this time just as much as I did, I knew it.

Someone hammered on the door again and I heard Moody's rasping tones.

"Is everything alright in there Severus? I heard a disturbance!" Snape moved towards the door and Moody's anxious voice. His fingers were pinching my ear and he was actually holding me really tight.

Snape threw open the door, glaring a truly scary glare (you know the one where his eyes blaze sorta like coals after the fire's just gone cold)

"Everything is under control. Potter here was just going for a midnight wander and I found it very coincidental that my ingredients store cupboard also happened to be broken into. Again," Snape directed his freezing glare towards me, but somehow I found a spark of heat that had been there just minutes before. I shivered in what would seem like fright to Moody, but was in fact a much more friendly feeling.

Snape's words surprised me a little, in all the errrm...commotion I'd sort of forgotten why I'd come. When it hit me that supposedly Mr Crouch had been here and now Snape's stores had been broken into again I gasped. This was getting seriously weird.

My sudden intake of breath seemed to startle the two men and Snape immediately loosened his hold on my ear. Something fishy was going on here, and it felt connected to whatever possessed Cedric at the Yule Ball.

"Well if you have everything under control..." Moody said warily, then he stopped and looked at me, eyes widening as he clocked my wet hair and skimpy dressing robe "Where have you been Miss Potter?"

Truth was probably the best option with crazy Moody so I looked into his freaky eyes and said, "I took the egg for a bath," It sounded ridiculous but truthful.

"Hmm." I couldn't tell if Moody approved or not but he turned again to leave, "After you've finished interrogating the girl maybe you should talk to the Headmaster about the break-in Severus."

Snape just sneered at Moody's retreating back, then sighed and went to squidge the bridge of his nose.

"NO!" I yelled, startling his hands away from his face, "Broken nose, remember?"

For a millisecond he looked almost grateful, but his emotionless mask was back quicker than a Firebolt. He walked over to the sofa, running a hand through his tangled hair. Snape looked tall and striking, especially when he looked at me with almost painful indecision.

"Get out Potter. As you missed detention tonight you will serve it with Mr. Filch tomorrow,"

What? He was throwing me out after we'd nearly kissed...again.

"Please Snape" I begged, trying to put all my feelings in one voice, "Don't do this to me, you're the only person-" He didn't let me finish, but stalked over and took my shoulders roughly.

"I am not what or who you think I am Stephanie," Snape stared straight into my eyes, holding me captive there, "There are far too many reasons why this," he gestured to his hold on me, and our close bodies, "can never be,"

"You're afraid," I whispered, finding a nugget of truth and rolling with it, "You're afraid of letting me in. That's OK cos you're a Slytherin, but when you work up the courage to trust me, please don't be afraid of trusting me."

His eyes had widened then shuttered off, blanking me. He pushed away and turned his back on me.

"Get out Potter."

And I did. But fuck me, it hurt to leave again, when once more I had been so close. Silently, I vowed that my next intimate encounter with Potions Master Severus Snape, would end in a kiss.

_Please please PLEASE REVIEW :) it keeps me alive. _

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	18. Gillyweed

Gillyweed

**Basically I am SO SORRY you guys, I completely forgot about this story. Also I'm sorry this chapter is terrible, it's been in my documents for ages and AGES and just, nothing has been happening with it and I totally lost confidence in this story.**

**Hopefully, I can bring it back with some hotness next chapter. I love you all SO MUCH! :) I promise some hotness next chapter and some action i PROMISE it xxxx**

Firewhisky burned a treacherous path down my oesophagus, yet two more refills crept their way into my glass. It seemed to me that becoming inebriated was just the right way of dealing with my raucous thoughts.

And deal with them I must, because I had come to a fork in the road. The time had arrived to choose my route, and both paths lead darkly off into the horizon, futures uncertain.

I stood, walking slowly to the bookcase, which was littered with leather-bound first editions and stray pieces of parchment that fluttered frivolously as I blew off the dust. Spells, so many curses and hexes to choose from, so many potions to brew. Yet was there one more powerful than the feeling in my gut?

It was like I'd lost part of myself while fighting this battle. And every day I felt the disinterest dissipating while this disgustingly Gryffindor emotion of caring grew a little stronger. I no longer thought of the beast as being inside me.

No, it had knit itself into the fabric of my flesh and bones; it was as much a part of me as my damned hereditary nose. Laughing bitterly to myself, I recalled the previous night's events, a rush of blood travelling downwards as I pictured the girl leaning over me, soft thighs gripping my hips, and rose-petal lips so close to my own, hair dripping citrus-smelling drops of water onto my face.

I would get Moody back for that interruption, although deep inside, a part of me thanked him for it. The meeting with the Headmaster afterwards had been discommodious. Pity was etched into the lines of his face as I informed him of the break-in, but it was pity at what I did _not_ mention, the encounter with Miss Potter.

No doubt the suspicious ex-Auror had 'subtly' remarked to Albus that it was indeed very odd that Severus Snape, notable cretin, was entertaining a young girl in his rooms at such late hours.

I walked slowly, pondering this, into the doorway that led off from my main rooms. This was my Potions store cupboard, complete with everything an ambitious Master of the Art could ever need. My raucous laugh rebounded in the small room as I corrected myself, there was _nearly_ everything I needed.

The ingredients necessary for Polyjuice Potion were running dangerously low again. Fury bubbled up at the fact I could not protect these measly ingredients despite being a meticulously trained and accomplished wizard.

Pushing the anger aside, I dragged the heavy pensieve towards me and shoved wand-tip to temple, dragging out any memories containing Stephanie Potter. A beautiful silvery swirl, the thoughts drifted down into the mystical liquid-gas and shimmered on its surface.

A pale, delicate face with dark unruly curls and large green eyes shivered on the translucent top layer, and then slowly merged with the other silver-grey strands of memory.

Good. The last thing I needed was irritatingly prominent memories of her closeness, the feel of her lips against my cheek, her soothing hand...I shook myself, resisted the urge to create more memories (in truth, fantasies) and opened the large metal freezer in the corner of the room.

Various packed meats sat grimly on the shelves, some frozen solid, others remaining at a raw texture. Gritting my teeth I reached in and took the dragon hide. The meat was tough to the touch, even with the protective preservative spell.

I grabbed various other ingredients from the shelves and went to the private potions laboratory hidden behind the door disguised as a bookcase. A clichéd Muggle trick, yet it worked surprisingly well. No-one had ever been in here excluding me.

Bottles clinked as I cleared the workbench and the familiar sound relaxed my tensed shoulders. This potion was going to need complete concentration if it were to fulfil its intended role. Veritaserum, if brewed over the correct length of time, ensured that both the administrator and the potion's drinker would never be able to forget the truths told.

A part of my mind was blaring alarm bells so insistent they started to form a migraine. Continuing down this path could be disastrous, something I knew all too well. If she had been playing a prank, bewitched, confunded, there were so many possibilities that explained her actions...

This way I would know for certain her motives and desires, and a Slytherin can never be too sure.

Raw dragon hide gives off a most disgusting smell of rust and flesh and it assaulted my nostrils, making me forget how much I needed to know the insides of Potter's mind.

The scent took me deep into my darkest days, bringing flashes of blood, cut flesh and bleeding wounds, my own and others' and the smell of raw dead meat just like this. Screams echoed in my head, and I heaved dryly, trying to keep my hand steady as I stirred.

I did what Dumbledore strongly advised against, I locked those memories up once more. Right this moment the potion was of tantamount importance. One slip and I would have to begin anew. With raw dragon rump costing a hundred Galleons a kilo, it was not financially viable.

6 long, tireless hours later, the potion was simmering nicely, covered with a concealment charm for extra measure though it was already behind locked doors. As I've already said, a Slytherin can never be too certain.

My eyelids were leaden but I made absolutely sure there were ten wards on the hidden door. Veritaserum needs stirring constantly, but by Merlin's eyes it would be worth it once my troubles came to fruition. A brief enchantment on the stirring rod set it in circular motions which would suffice until I next checked it.

I logged the evenings work in the leather-bound notebook in which I record all such matters. While writing, an order from Poppy flittered to the floor. Ten bottles of 'Skele-Gro'. Groaning from exhaustion, I decided her little task could wait a few hours.

After all there were classes to teach in a short time, and I would have to employ my new attitude towards Potter.

There really was no use crying this time. The only sad thing that had happened was our interruption. If Moody hadn't have been there I'm almost certain he would have kissed me. Yeah, he definitely would have. I could still feel the rough texture of his cheek on my lips for hours after I went to bed.

Hermione was asleep already, and for her sake I muttered a quick _silencio_ around the bed. Her tired sleepy musings were all about 'Viktor, strong Vik' and 'Ron don't do that, oh Ron' accompanied with giggles. That girl really needed to relieve her sexual tension.

Then again who was I to talk about sexual tension? Clean spring air wafted through the window and I smiled a sleepy smile to myself. Things were most definitely looking up tonight. Maybe Snape had finally admitted it to himself that he liked me, that he wanted me. Did he trust me? Hmm, not yet but we could work on that.

I climbed into bed and fell asleep with hope and happiness wedged deep in me, and the ghostly memory of his body against mine.

Birds chirping woke me fairly early next morning and I couldn't stop a giant grin radiating off my face. It was weird that ever since I'd spent time in the dark and dank dungeon master's rooms, the morning had never seemed brighter.

Chuckling to myself I went and poked Hermione in the ribs. Time to tell her all about that embarrassing little outburst of hers last night. When she turned round I jumped in surprise. She had a yellow-ish complexion and her eyes were heavy with dark shadows. It seemed as if she'd been awake all night, even if I knew she hadn't...

"Hermione what's wrong? Do you feel OK?" I said, sitting down gently on her bed.

She sat up and looked at me shaking her head.

"Harry," she whispered, "We get our Potions tests back today..."

I swatted her angrily, and would have laughed if she didn't look so sick with worry. Fancy getting me all scared about something as stupid as a test. That girl really wanted to try living in my world.

"Don't laugh at me!" she snapped, snatching her hairbrush from the dresser beside her bed, "This is going to be my worst mark ever, Snape was positively evil."

She frowned at my lack of input or ranting or whatever, then examined me more closely.

"How did you find it? I never asked after all that commotion with Cedric," Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously when I didn't reply. She started to ask again but I cut her off.

"It was OK I guess," I said with a shrug, looking away.

She blanched and began to speak but I continued hastily, "I mean I would have totally failed it but luckily while researching over the hols I stumbled across some of the stuff,"

Hermione was still looking at me warily, but her face softened and she brushed her mane of hair, reminding me of my still-unruly locks.

"I did notice you had an awful lot of Potions textbooks from the library," she said, not meeting my eyes. Damn, I _knew _she'd noticed. Why bring it up now? Jealousy maybe... I felt immediately defensive.

"Yeah well," I said snappily, voice hardening, "Snape's always telling me how absolutely shit I am at Potions, thought it might be better if I actually tried for once," Maybe he'll give me something other than negative and hateful attention in class I added silently.

"Hmm," was all Miss Priss decided to say.

I glared at her, daring her to tell me that I was becoming obsessed, daring her to guess at my little secret. In a way I wanted her to know, I wanted to talk to someone about the almost-kisses, about the sick, fluttery feeling in my stomach. I wanted a girly chat. Even though I _could_ probably trust her to keep it quiet, she'd never approve. Not in a million years. So I said nothing, and dampened the goading look on my face.

I knew she used to have a massive crush on her Muggle tutor back home, but she didn't do anything about it. Maybe the Sorting Hat got it completely right when it put me in Gryffindor. In this area (let's call it Snape-baiting) I definitely had more courage than most.

Then again _most people_ would think I was mad, or bewitched.

Ron was waiting for us in the Great Hall; places saved either side of him. Odd, he usually only sat next to me, making a barrier between his ears and Hermione's chides. I felt a weird pang of jealousy and told myself off for it. Ron, Hermione and I were all best friends, _equal_ best friends.

Feeling a little pouty I ate my toast pretty much in silence, that is til Malfoy decided to fuck with my already bad morning.

"Potter," he drawled, appearing at our table like a ghost and scaring me shitless, "You and I need to talk," His empty blue eyes didn't give any hints as to what he was talking about.

"Uh no, how about this for a plan – you piss off and leave me alone?" It wasn't really a question, I'd already recovered from my shock and was too busy thinking about our imminent Potions lesson to pay attention to the annoying git.

To mine, Hermione and Ron's mutual surprise he leant forward and whispered in my ear.

"I know about your night-time visit to the dungeons," Malfoy drawled in a deathly quiet voice. I nearly spat my pumpkin juice all over Neville, who looked terrified at Malfoy's presence.

Malfoy began to walk away and I scrambled off the bench to follow him. Ron's eyes went wide with shock but I assured him that it was cool and I just had to go sort him out. If I was Ron I wouldn't have believed me but he seemed more interested in watching Hermione eating her sausages anyway.

I followed him out into the alcove outside the Great Hall, which seemed dark and ominous even though cheerful sunbeams were dancing against the stone walls.

Pacing around me, the arrogant little twit started to laugh when I didn't say anything. Honestly I couldn't say anything; I was trying to figure out how Snape had been so stupid. Who in their right minds left their rooms unwarded? So that a little prick like Malfoy could...well fuck, how did he know?

Without speaking, he walked up to me, so we were nose to nose.

"You _have _been stealing from Professor Snape's ingredients cabinet haven't you," he said thickly, almost grinning with glee. What? This made no sense. I pushed him away and drew my wand, archly pointing the tip at his temple.

"What are you going on about, Malfoy?" I said, but he batted my wand away and merely laughed in that irritating drawl of his.

"I heard it all last night, when that buffoon Moody came knocking on Professor Snape's doors," The way the little snob uttered his name was reverent and I immediately felt nauseous, but let him continue, "When I heard the commotion in the dungeons, I hid outside his doors, then low and behold the secrets of your thieving were revealed."

His ridiculous speech was accompanied by sweeping hand gestures and overly dramatic tones. What a tosser. Quietly I thanked Merlin and various other Gods and Goddesses that Malfoy had not somehow seen into Snape's chambers and had only overheard what he thought was me getting bollocked.

Sighing in relief, I put my wand away and hissed at Malfoy.

"Piss off you little prick," I walked back towards the hall, smiling at Malfoy's look of shock and confusion.

On our way to Potions Hermione looked more and more sick. By the time we were at the heavy oak door in the chilly air, she was positively green.

"'Mione, you OK?" Ron whispered in a surprisingly tactful tone. Hermione spun round and faced him, probably about to go into some awful tirade but she was stopped by Snape's appearance.

Despite myself I felt molten-hot fluttering in my stomach, and unconsciously touched my lips, feeling his skin there. Eyes glazed, I walked into the classroom after the Potions Master.

Potions Master. It sounded grand and sexy and I was daydreaming again...

SLAM! Papers thumped on the desks, red ink scattered all over, scared faces all around me; what a way to be awoken from a happy fantasy. Snape strolled through the rows of benches, robes billowing behind him in waves, creating ripples of disappointment in everyone's faces. Except me that was.

I was actually looking forward to the mark, pretty sure it was going to be a good one.

Paper hit my desk and I grabbed it greedily. That red circle had never looked prettier, as inside it was another smaller, differently shaped circle. An 'O', an outstanding. I beamed up at my teacher but was more than a little shocked when I realised he was already back at his desk and puffing up.

I could sense a collective holding of breath in the room, everyone waiting for what he was going to say. Snape's dark eyes glittered as he surveyed the room full of generally despairing students.

"The response to this test was abysmal. You should be disgusted with your marks," his voice was low and venomous, eyes darting all around the class, "Anyone who received a fail grade will write me 12 inches on how the juice of an Ogres' Eye plant is extracted...without the hands of the extractor being burnt to a crisp,"

I heard Hermione struggle to keep in a little wail of disappointment and slyly peered over at her paper. It was a P, sat smugly there on her page and I could picture Snape's smile as he had boldly given Hermione her worst grade ever.

Said teacher glanced over at the sniffling girl and sneered, then started to teach the lesson. I felt my eyes widen in shock and disbelief. I had received my first ever O, my first ever grade higher than an A in Potions actually, and Snape wasn't going to acknowledge it?

My lips formed a pout I couldn't help, which Hermione caught, and she (not as sneakily as me) leant and looked at my test. Eyes widening in shock, she gasped and Snape whirled to look at us. But he didn't. Well he did look, but not at us, not at me.

Those dark, mysterious eyes looked straight through me, not catching my gaze. It was like I was...well, it was like I was any other student.

Suddenly a lead balloon, the happiness in my stomach began to sink. Never in my four years here had Snape treated me normally. Even more ironically, couple of months ago I would have been thrilled about being just another pupil in his dungeons.

Now though? I wanted more, so much more. The tiny, teasing bite last night had only made me want Snape with more passion and determination. I'd thought being top in the class would bring some recognition. What was his game? I slumped in my desk and let Hermione feverishly carry on the work.

She was upset. No, she was more than that. Disappointed? Perhaps. During the whole hour I could feel her gaze upon me but I refused to acknowledge it.

If I treated her with the attention I give the average no-good pupil (as little as possible) then her desires could be set on someone far more appropriate, and directed away from me.

After all, I could not shake the fear that the Dark Lord was growing stronger, wherever he was hiding. All the strange and dangerous happenings, the wolves within the walls at Hogwarts, all the shrieks of his followers rising again. If he returned and saw that I have become _attached..._

Last night had been close. Far too close. I'd known that even while pulling her towards me, desperate to taste her. Last night the truth had been that she wanted me, but whether that was based on the attention of a male, or true feelings I did not know.

So (half-suspecting she would have grown amorous towards even Black if he had shown her the behaviour I had) I'd made my decision. Veritaserum. One way or another, we would discover the truth, the truth that perhaps even Potter did not know.

Looking sumptuous in all her youthful ignorance, she slouched in her desk, perturbed by my obvious lack of caring. I wanted to give it to her (double-entendre aside). I was more than impressed by her flawless answers in the test.

Better than Granger's work had ever been, my conscious muttered. Stephanie had so much potential, and intelligence and most of all I could feel the power of her passion behind the words. Ridiculous as it seems, my breath quickened while reading her lavish descriptions of Aurelius uses.

All it took to bring out her excellence was a little...enthusiasm. I smirked to myself as I thought how truly simple it would be to coax brilliance out of the girl. Then who would obtain the credit?

_She _would, _of_ course she would. The press loves her, and you, Severus Snape, are a nobody. In the world of Potions things are different. Being a Grand Master does not equate to fame and fortune, only a modicum of respect amongst other Potioneers. An acknowledgement of talent.

Which is another quality Potter has in abundance. Realising that has made this harder, but not impossible, no. After the things I have done, I would doubt any deed would be impossible. Of course, there are only so many times you can sell your soul and retain humanity.

I slumped back into the chair, rubbing my eyes in frustration. Yes, the clue was pretty much figured out, yes I had the help of friends and resources but fuck me the second task was TWELVE HOURS AWAY.

It didn't help that all I could think about was fucking Snape. Bastard.

Hermione was pacing up and down the aisle book in hand, chanting the clue, going through it again, searching for a solution between the words.

How many times had I told her, she wasn't going to find it. The words were meant to be ambiguous. Meant to give you just enough info to figure out you'd have to be in the lake for an hour. Underwater. For an hour. Without air.

I looked apathetically at the piles and piles of books stacked on the tables, wincing as they teetered ominously.

Ron gave a weary sigh, "We've been to the library every day for two weeks," he said, definitely irritated, "How the bloody hell can there be _nothing_ on underwater charms or hexes or potions or WHATEVER!"

A stony-eyed Madame Pince shushed Ron (who had begrudgingly been accepted back into the library after I convinced her I needed his help) and turned to scold us but I gave her a helpless, pleading look and with a huff she went back to her desk.

"Guys I'm gonna go search for another Potions book, m'kay?" I asked weakly.

"But Harry we've already..." Hermione trailed off and looked at me apologetically, "I'm so sorry. We've been useless. Maybe you'll find something," She managed a smile and waved me off.

It hurt to see them feeling so rubbish, but I wasn't up to reassuring them like I usually did. This time I didn't think everything was going to turn out right.

Titles of interesting Potions texts caught my eye, but they would have to wait until I didn't think I was going to die. This task was scary, really scary. I had the right equipment (my wand and a wicked swimsuit that was charmed against all sorts of things, given to me by _Fleur Delacour_ of all people, who was actually really nice. And her sister Gabrielle, what a cutie. Course, it was a kind of revealing suit, but all the better for encouraging certain men to look at me) but without some way of breathing underwater for an hour, I was totally lost.

I slumped against a bookcase, letting my butt drag down to the floor, and pulled my knees into my chest. My head flopped down and my cheeks grew hot with tears. Just as I was working myself into a state, I heard footsteps approaching and thought that maybe Ron or Hermione had come to help, so I didn't look up. Just sort of grunted.

When the sound abruptly stopped and I heard a low breathing, I looked up. Dark eyes met mine, widened only a fraction more than usual. Snape. I wanted to get up, to look coy because I felt almost sick with the worry that he would turn tail and leave. All I wanted was for him to look _at _me.

You see, the last couple of weeks had been hell. Snape was just being normal towards me. Not normal-teacher normal, but Snape-normal. It sucked and was majorly confusing on top. Act like he wants me, then this? If it wasn't Snape I would have thought he was playing hard to get.

He was looking at me as if he'd never seen a girl crying before. Stupid, cos he'd seen me vulnerable. Then he did something I wasn't expecting after his indifferent behaviour; reached out his long fingers and grasped my hand, pulling me to my feet.

I ended up very close to his body and breathing hard, snivelling my tears and snot away. Yummy, I know.

Snape smelled weirdly earthy, as if he'd been messing around in the greenhouses. His hand slipped into my robe pocket and I gasped loudly as I felt his fingers curve around my hip bone. His fingers were shaking.

I could usually tell what people _weren't_ saying by reading their stances, expressions and body tension. I think it came from being repeatedly ignored as a child, you learnt what people wanted you to do without them having to tell you. But Snape? He was so much harder to understand, his face as emotionless as a Flobberworm. A dead one. There were no clues in that gaunt oval.

There was something odd, a strange squishy, wet feeling to his fingers and then they were gone and my pocket felt heavier. I stared into his eyes searching for meaning or recognition and found what looked like pity mixed with desperation. In a flash it was gone.

" Potter," he whispered, mouth close to my ear, "Use this tomorrow, Longbottom would have taken too long in acquiring it,"

Before I'd even had chance to be confused, Snape was gone, and all I had left as proof it had really happened was the wet, gloopy plant he'd put in my pocket.

**So crap, I know. Please keep the faith! Love you all xxxx**


	19. Head over Hearts

Head Over Hearts

**Hi! I haven't updated this in a long time, but I've just had some inspiration for it, becuase new people have been reviewing and now I've got direction. This chapter may be a little all over the place, and confusing but it leads to a plot, don't worry. **

**Love you all! Please continue to read and review.**

**Snape's POV but changing with each 'xoxoxox'**

I couldn't be certain what had lead to such a sudden change of heart. Above everything I suppose it had to be the crushing fear that occurred when thinking about Stephanie failing a task. The second was going to be excruciatingly difficult.

She had completed the first mostly on luck and natural flying skill. You could not bring a broom into a lake. The hours proceeding giving the Gillyweed to Potter were fraught with an anxiety that was akin to my fear of facing the Dark Lord.

My dreams that evening were tense and muddled. Images of merpeople with cold eyes and glittering weapons danced before my eyes, then a blood-spattered cloak covering a body. A body I knew or another haunting past memory? I couldn't tell.

xoxoxoxoxox

A bitterly cold wind whipped my hair ab out as I stood, toes over the edge of the platform, looking into the glassy blackness of the lake.

Dripping green gloop onto the wood, the Gillyweed in my hand felt like a lifeline and I twisted to see the man who'd given me this present.

Snape's face was expressionless, guarded. I tried hard to believe that was because he didn't want anyone to know how much he cared for me. Yet, despite the fact he gave me the Gillyweed, I couldn't shake the doubt that all that had happened between us had been imagined and, even more pressing, that I knew nothing about him.

I was so deep into my worries that when the claxon sounded I was only just putting the disgusting sticky weed in my mouth.

With a mixture of coughing, choking and chewing, I finally swallowed the thing then sort of bellyflopped into the water.

Icy daggers stabbed every little bit of my skin and it took all I had not to hyperventilate. For a few seconds it seemed as though the Gillyweed was doing nothing.

Suddenly there was a searing hot pain burning by neck and my feet and my fingers. My whole body curled up into a hedgehog ball and when the pain was reaching its peak and I thought I was going to black out, I convulsed and stared amazed at my newly formed webbed feet and toes.

With almost no coordination or grace I began to plunge further into the murky blackness. Weirdly, I could almost see clearly and was breathing without breathing. Well I was using the strange flappy gills on my neck but my mouth stayed shut. It was by far the strangest experience of the year.

As I got used to the water temperature and the strangeness of my limbs, I found I could speed up.

I was almost having fun gliding through the water with the ease of a fish. That was, until I met the grindylows...

xoxoxoxox

Why had timed slowed to such an intolerable pace? In hindsight Dumbledore had been rather foolish to invite students to watch this event. To those who didn't care, it would seem tedious.

The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach wouldn't leave, refused to acknowledge that Stephanie was most probably fine.

Dumbledore shot me anxious looks from time to time.

Suddenly there was activity on the water. A girl surfacing. My heart stopped.

It was Delacour, dropping out and I cursed loudly, feeling myself shaking with anger. I began to pace, waiting for her, waiting and praying to a God I didn't believe in that she was safe.

Another splash. Diggory. Then Krum. I felt faint. Their time was nearly up. She was going to be stuck down there. Gillyweed only lasts an hour at best. I was going to be sick. Stephanie was drowning.

When I thought I would faint, three bodies surfaced. Red hair, silver hair, black hair. Why wasn't she moving? Why wasn't she swimming?

I looked towards Dumbledore and he nodded to me. An instant-Floo route to my rooms had been set up earlier in the day in case she was injured. The hospital wing was too crowded and public.

Dumbledore stood on the pier and flicked his wand. My stomach wrenched as Stephanie flew bodily from the waters. A red stream followed her and coloured the dark waters scarlet. My heart jumped and as she floated towards me I threw the once-use Floo powder onto the flames being emitted from my wand.

We flew dizzyingly into my quarters in a flash so fast that no students noticed. Stephanie was heaving, and I rushed her into my private rooms. Using the incredible gift of hindsight, this was probably the wrong decision to make but the sofa was no use.

Gently and gingerly positioning her on the bed, _your space on the bed, _hissed my inner beast, I assessed the damage.

Stephanie had a long, jagged cut running from under her right breast to just below her left hip and I grimaced. The hospital wing would have been a better idea. With more than a little regret, I cut away most of her bathing suit, leaving her barely clothed.

Her skin was beautiful, radiant but I forced myself to concentrate, stemming the blood flow, cleansing the wound and sealing it with a magic salve. To seal it completely I had to run my fingers along the edges of the cut. They shook, travelling that forbidden yet fantasised journey across her smooth stomach. It was temptation in its most concentrated form.

My breath hitched as she jerked, so far she had been unconscious. I cursed myself for forgetting to wake her and dashed to my potions stores to obtain the appropriate medicinal potions. Whilst rattling around my cupboards I noticed the tiny, clear vial of Veritaserum.

It was a good a time as any. I poured the little vial into a glass of Firewhisky and brought a Pepper-Up Potion Plus.

I propped Stephanie up as gently as possible, placing all the pillows in my possession underneath the small of her back.

Her eyelids fluttered and when she came to, she was shaking. Cursing my forgetfulness (she'd just been in the Black Lake for Merlin's sake) I covered her with the sheets.

"Professor?" she whispered, "Are they ok? Ron and Gabrielle...the merpeople...they attacked," her voice was weak and I shuddered, seeing her fragility.

"Hush child," I chided, "Drink this,"

Wetting her lips with the laced Firewhisky, I administered the Pepper-Up and a blood supplement. Then it was time to decide. Was the truth important enough to deceive her? To drug her?

It was wrong. Yet I needed to know. It was a burning flame inside of me, consuming me. If I continued to pursue my feelings for the girl without knowing what was truly going on in her mind, how could I justify my actions?

So I acted. I slipped the drink into her mouth. She coughed a little, the alcohol being somewhat stronger than the average Butterbeer and her grimace as it burned her throat was endearing.

Her eyes seemed slightly glassy, no doubt from the Veritaserum altering her brainwaves.

"How are you feeling?" A tester question.

"Good. Well, better than I was," she chuckled hoarsely, "Why am I _here_ professor?"

She was curious, tilting her head to the side and studying me intently. If I was making her be unwillingly truthful, I might as well extend her the courtesy of some honesty.

"The Hospital Wing is too public," I paused, "And I was concerned for your health, and felt you would benefit with some more private care,"

She raised her eyebrow cheekily. I'd forgotten just how beautiful she was in all these days and weeks of attempting to ignore her. There was an awkward silence.

"Stephanie," I choked up a little, "What exactly are your feelings towards me?"

There. I'd said it. I couldn't take it back. There was now _no_ going back. Only one option, onwards.

xoxoxoxox

What a strange question. And even stranger, my head felt light and Snape was too close to me and I was going to end up telling him everything. Why was that? That could be disastrous. But I couldn't stop myself, it was as if I _wanted _to.

"I think you and I are the same," Well shit, here comes the ugly truth. Blame the blood loss, I told myself, "You know there are some times when I feel this _loneliness, _like a void, but then I come down to the dungeons and it's as if, even if we aren't talking, I'm totally content because only you know how I feel and it's this weird _connection_. Ron and Hermione are brilliant and wonderful and I love them but they just don't understand what it's like to feel the way I do. And I don't know why but I think you're the person who I can relate to the most. You understand how I feel. You make me feel safe_,_"

I laughed though nothing was funny and he looked to be waiting, holding his breath. I laughed again. Imagine that, Severus Snape waiting breathless for something _I _had to say.

"But of course I'm leaving out the main thing, the most important part. You make me feel amazing. Even when you're insulting me there's something in your eyes that screams _Stephanie Potter, you are special,_" I sighed, "and I'm going to sound like a complete tool if all this is just bullshit I've made up, but I'm attracted to you in a," I paused, blushing, "primitive kind of way. And just recently, I thought I've seen the attraction in your eyes too."

I dared to glance over at him. He was pale and my stomach sank. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, what a stupid fucking idiot. That was the worst possible decision. I've just made myself so fucking vulnerable, I thought. I wanted to run and hide and cry and _die. _

"I've got to leave," I whispered, trying to get out of bed. Mortified, I realised I was basically wearing a bikini now and I'd have to be very careful getting up or Snape might get an unwanted eyeful.

I made it to the door before I cried out, the pain in my stomach had started stabbing, crippling me. This shook Snape out of his stupor and he looked up, ashen-faced.

"Stephanie!" he breathed, before gliding over, his black robes swishing loudly and scooping me up in his arms. I was shivering now, feeling cold to my very bones. I could feel the tense muscles in his arms.

He was really warm, even feverish and the closeness of his chest was making me hot and bothered. I also realised about 80% of my skin was showing.

Almost in slow motion I saw his face coming closer, whispering. He was apologising again and again, why was he doing that? I twisted my hands round his neck pulling my head closer too.

A sickening sense of déjà vu settled on me. This was so like the times before. I couldn't let him or anything else stop me again. I wouldn't be able to survive it.

He was so close, his eyes roaming my face, his chest heaving. So close.

Taking the initiative, I leant up, smiling at the easiness of it and placed my lips against his. My whole body quivered and a burning hunger ignited somewhere deep within me and now I was clutching at his hair, moulding my lips against his, tingling with electricity all over my inflamed body.

We wobbled a little and, lips still touching, roaming, he moved me to the bed, laying me down and lying next to me, his hands round my waist, both propped up against the pillows. Severus was practically on top of me now and all I could taste was Firewhisky and potion and _him,_ so sweet and deadly I thought I might faint.

Our mouths moved together and it was everything I could ever imagine and more and I thought I'd melt from happiness. I got a little carried away, moaning into his mouth and moving my arms around his waist.

When I slid my hand up his shirt he suddenly froze, grabbing my hand and sighing onto my lips.

"We can't do this," he looked a little nauseous but I ignored it.

"Yes. We can. Please," I tried to kiss him again but he rolled away and sat, dejectedly, on the side of the bed, hanging his head in his hands.

"So much about this is wrong. I'm more than twice your age," Oh Merlin, this _again._

"Screw that! It doesn't _fucking _matter ok? I care about you and you're just making excuses. No one knows, no-one's judging. So what the fuck's wrong?"

"You talk to your teachers with that dirty mouth?" Severus asked me, smirking before paling again, "_I'm_ your teacher Stephanie. I have a responsibility,"

"Yes! You do have a responsibility. But I promise you, if you ignore me or ignore this, whatever we have, then I will purposefully fail Potions," I said, crossing my arms.

Seemingly exhausted, Severus turned to me.

"You aren't doing yourself any favours," he said, pointing at my childish position.

xoxoxoxox

She crept towards me, up the bed, while still keeping the covers wrapped around her. Kneeling next to me, she put her hands on either side of my face and locked gazes.

"We've come this far. How do you expect us to go back? Severus," Her voice wavered on the unfamiliar word, "I think I lo-"

I couldn't bear to hear those words.

Not now.

Not when the Veritaserum might have worn off.

So I did the thing I'd just sworn I wouldn't do again.

I leaned forwards stopping her mouth with a kiss. Her lips were soft and gentle and when she moaned, I erupted inside, pressing my hands to her waist and pulling her against me.

She pulled back and I froze in astonishment. Had I misinterpreted? Before I could speak she placed her hand on my chest, directly over my heart, and looked at me.

"Promise me something."

"I-"

"Please. Just promise me this; that you won't ignore me ever again. And that you do feel something for me."

I cocked my eyebrow, feeling anxious. This was all wrong. Look at the hope glittering in her eyes. She was so naive.

"Surely you do not believe this is what every average student has to go through to earn higher marks?"

She smiled.

"Well, I don't know, Hermione would do pretty much anything to get that 'O'..."

I swatted her gently but shuddered inside.

"This isn't a laughing matter Stephanie."

"You started it!" She smiled hopefully, not reading the indecision and doubt in my eyes, "Just promise me."

I grimaced, resenting having to promise her anything, "I promise that I will not ignore you and that I do indeed, however ridiculous it may seem, have feelings for you."

I said it in a rush of words, feeling beyond stupid.

Stephanie seemed to collapse with relief although I realised afterwards that it might have been pure exhaustion. Her body was soft and warm against my chest, and I let my arms link around her by instinct, clutching her close.

She ran a hand down my arm, entwined my fingers in hers and whispered seductively.

"Now where were we?"

Rolling her off me, I stood up, unclasping her hand. Ignoring her perturbed expression, I paced the floorboards. What I wanted to be said had to be said.

A sick sense of dread was boiling in my stomach, mingling my elation and my disgust at what I had just allowed to happen. Twice.

I tried to order my thoughts. This was for the best. It was. The best for her.

"Listen to me. _This_," I pointed to her suggestive pose, "Cannot happen yet. You are too young. No, be quiet, let me finish," she'd started to speak but I silenced her with a look, "Other people and their views aside, I do not feel comfortable and you, however much you have been through, are still a child. Wait a year. You might feel differently."

A physical pain tore through my chest. After experiencing what I had lusted for after so long it was even harder being responsible, making the right choice.

"A year?" she whispered, looking crushed.

I nodded, avoiding her gaze.

"But Severus... "

"I'm not saying we cannot see each other Stephanie. I merely feel that if we _waited_..."

With that Stephanie exploded, leaping off the bed and causing myself to wince because her newly healed wound ruptured and blood trickled down her abdomen.

"You! You prick!" She shouted and I felt my eyes narrow. So rude.

"Sit down, you are going to do yourself a further injury Miss Potter," I muttered coldly.

Tears began to stream down her face and I cursed myself for being short with her.

"Screw this," she said, voice burning with anger, "I _refuse _to wait for you to pull yourself together and decide that you can be with me. Life's too short. I will _not _sit around like some desperate freak while you come to terms with your _morals _and _feelings_. I deserve better than this!"

She was breathing hard, her chest heaving with effort and, realising she was weeping, she drew her hands across her cheeks.

"I always knew you were mean Snape, but I never thought you were cruel," she said more quietly, looking at the floor.

"Stephanie," I murmured, trying to work through her twisted teenage logic and pinpoint what exactly had set her off.

She had clicked her fingers and summoned that hideous creature 'Dobby' and was quietly asking it to bring her some clothes. I walked over and touched her shoulder but she shook me off. The house elf disappeared and reappeared a few seconds later, practically covered by the heavy robes he carried. I looked away while she dressed. In fact, I thought she had gone when her voice startled me.

"I'm not some plaything of yours Severus," she muttered, so quietly I had to lean closer, "How can you expect me to wait so long, when you've just shown me everything I've needed."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of my doors, not even glancing back.


	20. Skin Deep

Chapter 20 - Skin Deep

**Hey! This wasn't finished so I split it into two because I haven't updated in forever. Please keep reading. I know I'm now messing up plot/chronology for their fourth year but please roll with it? It's fanfic after all. Love you so much PLZ PLZ PLZ review! 3**

And just like that, everything went back to normal. Ron, Hermione and I were suffocated under an avalanche of essays, practicals and the occasional detention (it often had to do with Malfoy and violence and was generally served with that charming specimen of human kind, Argus Filch) Although actually Ron was quite enjoying himself. Apparently after I'd brought him and Gabrielle Delacour up from the bottom of the Black Lake, as I was mysteriously carted off to be patched up, he'd taken most of the credit for the saviour of Fleur's baby sister. Not that I blamed him, I was glad he was happy. Even if I didn't feel so great.

In some ways I guess I was happy. Lessons were mostly good, with a couple of exceptions. I don't think I've met anyone who could make something more boring that Professor Binns. And Divination wasn't exactly scintillating but there was one subject I dreaded more than those two put together and times a million. Because not only was my life back to normal, my Potions Master was his usual charming self and he wasn't going out of his way to be nice to me.

Even Neville, who (bless him) had enough to be going on with as far as Snape was concerned had remarked on the nasty turn that his behaviour towards me had taken. The occasional sarcastic, cutting comment had turned into constant full-on abuse. I'd be trying to get on with a potion, OK not always concentrating fully and Snape would appear behind me, take 5 points from Gryffindor and list everything wrong with my potion while I sat, grinding my teeth, trying to remember dismembering spells from DADA.

One evening after a particularly vicious lesson in the dungeons, Hermione, Ron and I were sat in the comfy chairs in the cosy corner of the common room. Ron was (for about the millionth time) reliving the tale of Fleur's kiss on the cheek and Hermione and I were trying our hardest not listen and get on with our History of Magic essays. In fact, I was nearly dozing off to sleep when Hermione turned to me.

"Why don't you report him?"

My quill fluttered to the ground as I started, "Who?"

"Professor Snape."

My eyebrows furrowed and I picked up the eagle feather, "How come?"

Ron and Hermione stared at me in unison. The looks of amazement on their face were identical and really creepy. I felt defensive, crossed my arms.

"What?"

"Harry," Hermione murmured, "You've got to have noticed the way he's been behaving towards you?"

My heart fluttered a beat faster than usual. They must mean the cruelty. Or had they seen something else? I closed my eyes for a second.

"Yeah but that's just same old Snape isn't it?" I said, praying for my voice not to wobble, "Always hated my guts."

Ron shook his head, "No Harry. He's never been like this before."

Hermione agreed, "Ron's right. Before, it was always quite subtle and private, but now he openly ridicules you practically all lesson long. Why, I haven't learnt anything useful in Potions for two weeks."

I felt my blood run cold and images of Snape leaning over my desk shouting and me, sitting there trying not to cry and feeling useless, not even angry.

"Well," I murmured, "I'm sorry I cause such a distraction."

Hermione patted my arm gently. "No one's saying it's your fault. If I were you though, I'd go to Dumbledore."

I nodded absent-mindedly without looking up. "I think I'm going to have an early night."

And with that I grabbed my books and climbed the staircase with a heavy heart and furious tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. Parvati passed me on the stairs and gave me a questioning look, but I pushed past her, longing for the privacy of my bed.

As soon as the curtains were closed I curled up in on myself and allowed tears to fall that had been bottled up and forced away ever since the aftermath of the second task. Still silently sobbing I lay on my back and with trembling fingers traced the light scar that ran diagonally across my stomach. His fingers had been here.

When a loud sob threatened to burst out my throat I felt a little bit sick with myself. I should be more than this. I'd promised myself this wasn't going to happen. With some effort, I sat up, wiping my bloodshot eyes. However hurt I was, I'd gone through worse, however betrayed I felt, there were still people who loved me, however much he humiliated me, I promised not to care. At the same time, I knew it would be a hard promise to keep.

I was woken early the next morning by a tapping on the window. Hedwig was fluttering outside, a little piece of parchment tied messily round her ankle, as if the sender had been in a hurry. I let her in quietly, so as not to wake the other sleeping girls and she settled on my arm and nipped my ear gently.

As I fed her some owl treats, I untied the message. It was from Sirius! He was coming to Hogsmeade this weekend and I'd finally be able to see him again after what felt like forever.

I felt my heart lift as Sirius' words filled me up. I was going to see him. A little squeak of joy escaped from my lips.

Hermione yawned loudly and sat up in her bed. She rubbed her eyes sleepily as I bounced over and shoved the letter into her hands. Her face pinched as she read the letter and by the end her eyebrows were knit into a pattern of worry.

"What is it?"

"Well, it's just this is so dangerous. Sirius is still a wanted man, he can't be just hanging around Hogsmeade."

I felt anger bubbling up inside me. Why was Hermione trying to deny me this happiness that I needed so badly?

"He won't _be _hanging around as himself will he? He'll look like another stray dog! Sirius isn't stupid Hermione; he wouldn't risk his life like this if he wasn't sure it would be ok!"

Hermione put her hands up in helpless surrender and I realised with a sense of guilt that I'd been close to shouting.

"Ok, ok I'm sorry. Look, I just don't want him ever going back to –"Hermione faltered and looked down, "Back there."

I put an arm on her shoulder and hugged her to me, feeling bad for upsetting her and seeing that actually Hermione really did care about Sirius and was only thinking about him, not us getting in trouble.

"Sorry too," I whispered, leaning into Hermione's hug, "I just-" my voice wavered, "I'm feeling so _frayed_ at the moment you know with the tasks and the work and..."

I trailed off, lost in thought.

"Snape?"

"What?"

Hermione looked at me sidelong and hugged me tighter. I prayed she couldn't feel the trembling in my chest that had started at that name.

"The way he's been treating you, I can see it's affecting you."

I nodded noncommittally looking down at the parchment in my hand.

"I'd, uh, better go post Sirius a reply. Oh and tell Ron. He'll be chuffed."

I flashed Hermione a quick smile before hopping back to my bed and rifling through the mess of clothes to find some clean robes.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

The corridors hung heavy with silence, it being still very early in the morning, the first rays of sun only just feathering the edges of the Black Lake, dancing off the rippling waters.

A rustling sound from the alcove in the wall caught my attention and my head swivelled toward it, eyes surveying the seemingly deserted space.

Without warning, a desperate hand caught my wrist and pulled me into the crevice. The dark, sunken eyes of Igor Karkaroff stared back at me and there was something wild and desperate contained within them. Some fear that had obviously shaken his core. He was trembling and his nails dug hard into the skin of my wrist, marking it.

"Severus," he hissed, "It's happening again. You must have felt it too, Severus! The mark! It's burning! The Dark Lord-"

I clamped a hand over his mouth. Something had moved in the previously deserted corridor, robes had swept the floor but stopped and now a low breathing was coming from around the corner. Someone had heard us.

"Igor control yourself! Come to my rooms tonight!" I muttered, "It's not safe to talk here."

With that, I jerked my hands out of his grasp and stalked round the corner to see the quickly retreating form of Potter.

"Come back here," I spat quietly, feeling anger welling, forming a pool of heat in my stomach.

Without even looking back, the girl raised one hand and flicked her long middle finger up. The anger solidified at this insult and I jerked forward, encircling her wrist with my fingers. I span her round, devouring the shock in her eyes.

I could feel the rapid pulsating of her blood beneath my finger tips. It was as if I could feel her magic flowing too and the sensation of holding her power in my hands was titillating. I smirked, not letting go.

"Lurking in corridors, eavesdropping Potter?"

She gritted her teeth and looked down at the floor, purposefully not meeting my gaze. I jerked her closer, tightening my grip. This was important. She couldn't know what I had been, what I still was if Karkaroff was to be believed, not yet.

"What did you hear?" I enunciated every word with pent-up rage, still clutching her tightly.

"Nothing," she said, looking up at me, studying my features. I noticed her free hand slip something into her robe pocket and without warning I reached in and snatched it.

She gasped and tried to grab it, "Give it back Snape!"

"Not likely Potter," I said, unfolding the parchment, letting my voice drip with venom "How touching, a letter to your dog-father. Oh. Meeting him in Hogsmeade I see. Well, wouldn't it be a shame if the Ministry were to," I smirked, "_somehow _be tipped off as to his whereabouts. That would be most unfortunate."

Her huge eyes widened and she shook her head in disbelief. "You wouldn't!"

"I'm glad you have such faith in me," I murmured, laughing softly. She shook her head again.

"Dumbledore wouldn't let you."

"Who says the Headmaster is to find out?"

Looking as if it pained her she moved closer so our hips were _almost_ touching and she looked up, licking her lips and fluttering her long eyelashes.

"Severus. I'm sorry I-"

Whatever she was going to say was cut off by a startled squeak from a bushy-haired intruder. Stephanie and I sprang apart, and I let go of her wrist.

"Umm sorry to, umm interrupt," said Granger, turning a deep red, "But urr, Harry you're late for Divination. Ron tried but gave up looking for you."

I glared at her but the girl wasn't looking. Instead, she was staring intently at Stephanie's wrist and with a nauseous rush of horror I realised I'd left four red indentations where I'd been squeezing her pressure point. This would appear bad. In fact that it could be disastrous if she went to the Headmaster. Physical punishments were prohibited at Hogwarts, well since the time Argus nearly whipped that boy to death.

"One moment _if you please_ Miss Granger," I murmured, dangerously low and soft. The girl nodded shakily and walked a few steps away to wait.

I pulled Stephanie closer.

"You will make an excuse," I said quietly, "And you will not tell _anyone_ what has passed between us."

Stephanie blanched then muttered angrily, "As if I'd want people knowing!"

I pushed her away and walked to my classroom, not daring to look back over my shoulder, not daring to make things more conspicuos.

How would Granger analyze what she had seen? Presumably she'd think that I was a bully. I hoped Stephanie would have her wits about her when answering the keen questions of the most annoying witch in their year. If she did not it could prove...troublesome. I cursed myself for the umpteenth time for becoming so deeply and complexly involved with this girl, this bewitching girl who had me thoroughly enthralled. I clenched my fists, feeling the tension of secrecy in every cell of my body. The first years were in for a tough Potions class, I thought with a small smile.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

"Harry _what _was all that about?" Hermione said, as we took the staircase two at a time.

"Nothing, look you're going to be late for Arithmancy if you hang around any longer!"

A year ago this would have set Hermione racing off but each time she returned to Hogwarts she seemed to have less regards for the rules.

"No Harry he hurt you. Let me see," She insisted, grabbing my wrist. I didn't wince but she still exclaimed at the deep-red marks on my skin.

"Leave it will you!" I snapped, jerking out of her reach, "I don't blame him. I called him a-" my mind went blank, then inpiration hit, "I called him a fucking bastard."

A painting of an old woman turned white as a sheet and tutted her angry reprimand. Hermione's eyes went even wider and she bore more than a slight resemblance to Professor Trelawney.

"To his face?"

I nodded (slightly pleased with my lie) and Hermione stopped walking. We'd come to the point where we had to split up to go to classes.

"Well then to be honest Harry I'm surprised you're still at Hogwarts."

"Exactly," I muttered, lying so hard it was a wonder my tongue didn't go black, "He was going easy on me, probably feeling guilty for how he was acting during class or something. I don't know how Snape's twisted mind works." _But I wish I did._

Hermione nodded thoughtfully then took a last look at the fading marks on my wrist before shooting off to her lesson.

I looked up at her scurrying form and then, as if the energy had literally been sucked out of me by the lying and the discovery of Snape's whispered conversations, I collapsed on the floor.

I was still sitting in this half-stupor, completely exhausted when the ghostly figure of Peeves floated by. His bow tie was positively spinning with glee. I looked up at him, glaring.

"Oh potty wee potty you look oh so glum!

But Peevesy knows something that will make him your chum!

If into Snape's office you venture to go...

Then all you need do is follow the glow!"

"What are you talking about Peeves; I am _really _not in the mood."

The poltergeist did three somersaults and tweaked my nose. I nearly cursed him. I was SO not in the mood.

"PEEVES!"

He giggled perversely and did a back flip in the air and knocked a suit of armour over with an ear-splitting CLANG.

"Shit," I said, pulling myself up off the floor and spotting Mrs. Norris slinking away down the corridor, "Come on leg it Peeves, or Filch'll have you thrown out."

Positively glowing with mirth he followed me as I raced down the stairs, unconsciously going towards the dungeons. As I paused in the chilly corridor to catch my breath, Peeves giggled and pointed to Snape's murky office.

"What?"

"I told you Potty! Go look in his whatsit, his think-bowl, his PENSEEVE and you'll see. I saw him putting something very interesting in there earlier!"

And with that Peeves was off. Leaving behind a very confused student. I thought I remembered Hermione mentioning something about a 'pensieve' in which wizards and witches could store their thoughts. So...what had Snape been putting in there? And more importantly, what had Peeves seen?

With trepidation, I entered his study...


	21. Lost but not Forgotten

Chapter 21 - Lost but not Forgotten

**Line = POV change! :)**

The sudden chills of the room startled me. I'd forgotten that Snape liked to keep his quarters a few degrees below freezing, stupid bloody snake. I scanned and immediately clocked the shallow glowing stone dish Peeves had been describing. The 'pensieve' was sitting smack bang in the middle of Snape's desk.

It just oozed mystery, with a light sapphire glow sitting atop a swirling liquid that looked something like molten silver. As I crept closer and could see the beautiful dish more closely, and the curiosity began to build.

There, shimmering on the surface was my face. At least, I thought it was from a distance. But up close, I realised I'd never had hair like that and my eyes weren't brown. It was my dad. My dad's face was sitting in a bowl on Snape's desk.

Being a Gryffindor at heart and a curious (some would say nosy) girl by nature I felt it would be rude _not _to investigate. After all this was my _dad_. In _Snape's_ strange little thought dish. My hands closed around the cool, smooth edges and even though I'd never seen one before, there was something instinctive that told me I already knew what to do.

Taking a deep breath, more for courage than respiration, I plunged my face into the silky-strange liquid. A plummeting feeling pulled at my stomach and I was suddenly half-falling, half-floating in black abyss until I hit the floor with an ungainly thud, legs splayed and arms flailing. My first thought was _I recognise this place! _

It was the Great Hall at exam time. But instead of the familiar faces of my year I saw...Snape. Young, teenage Snape. He was bent over almost double, nose (somewhat straighter back then) very close to the parchment on which he was scribbling furiously. Tearing my eyes away from the strange sight, something hit me.

Why weren't people looking at me? A girl had just dropped into the middle of the room, seemingly from nowhere and no one cared? Even for the wizarding world, that was odd.

"Hello," I murmured but no one looked up. Couldn't they hear me? I leaned over to see if Snape could see me but something in the periphery caught my eye. A boy with black tousled hair and that familiar thin, prominently boned face was sitting nonchalantly in his chair, looking very bored.

If it had been real life I would have tripped in my haste to get to him but in this strange dream-like state I almost glided. Then there he was. My dad. Sitting in the middle of the Great Hall looking around, tousling his already messy hair. I reached out with my hand to touch him, to try and hold what I couldn't remember ever having but my hand slipped through his form. A very real and solid feeling of disappointment formed in my gut but I tried to steel myself. After all it was just a memory, and this was gift enough, to be able to watch my dad.

"Five more minutes!"

I jumped at Professor Flitwick's squeaky little voice ringing through the Hall. He was walking past a boy sitting behind my dad, a boy in the row behind. A boy with silky, black, shoulder-length hair who three girls (at least) were openly ogling. My grin grew even wider. _Sirius! _And two seats to the left of him; Lupin! My heart felt like it was going to burst with happiness.

My dad turned round and gave Sirius thumbs up who in turn smirked and nodded, mouthing "_Easy_". Remus was looking a little less pleased, rather pale but I guessed that was because it was nearing his time of the month.

"Quills down please!" squeaked Professor Flitwick. "That means you too, Stebbins! Please remain seated while I collect your parchment! _Accio!_"

All the parchments zoomed towards the front of the Hall with alarming speed (nearly taking young Stebbins, who was still clutching his tightly, with them) and catapulted into the outstretched arms of poor little Flitwick who was knocked over in an instant.

A couple of the more conscientious students at the front sighed and went to haul the man back to his feet. Snape was still engrossed in the question paper but Dad and the other Marauders were starting to trickle out the Hall.

Could I go with them? This was Snape's memory after all...An agonized sense of panic rushed through me as I looked between my dad who was laughing and tousling his hair, and Snape whose nose was practically glued to the parchment. I wanted to go with them _both. _

Luckily, Snape began to follow the little troupe out of the Hall into the grounds, where the clear, warm summer sun brightened the grass and seemed to visibly lift a burden off the students' shoulders. Snape went to sit by the lake _still _reading through that exam paper (in a perverse way, he kind of resembled Hermione) and the troupe of three people who I held very dear, and one despised enemy went to sit under a large tree.

I sat in frozen awe and just _watched_. To anyone else it might have seemed _the most _boring conversation in the world but I treasured every second. The content absorption of Uncle Remus' face as he read his book, occasionally replying to something one of the others said, Sirius lounging back in the grass, and looking (though pretending not to) at the sixth year girls and him and my dad just talking and laughing. It tugged at my heart.

But...for all it was brilliant to see them, it wasn't exactly what I'd imagined it to be. They were clearly quite bored; my dad had produced a snitch from his pocket and was absent-mindedly releasing it and snatching it back in. Every time he did this, Wormtail would let out a sickening squeak of admiration, clapping his hands with sycophantic glee.

I'm telling you if I could have, I'd have given him a good smack and told him to shut up but Dad just smirked, and caught the little fluttering ball again. Almost as if – no. Well. As if he enjoyed it, this blatant brown-nosing. And he kept tousling his hair, forcing it upward into that 'unruly' state. My stomach twisted uncomfortably. This wasn't exactly how I'd imagined things, and a sense of ill foreboding settled on my chest.

I should leave now, I should go, I'd seen them and that was enough. In fact, it was brilliant. Only I didn't know how - Merlin this was the first time I'd been in a bloody Pensieve! I tried whispering a few little chants like "End memory" and "Stop" but nothing seemed to happen. Where was the innate sense now?

Resigned to the fact I wouldn't be getting out anytime soon, I went to sit back down. Then my heart plummeted. Snape was walking over and my dad looked like a dog that'd spotted a squirrel.

"_Snivellus!_" The casual whispered malice sent a shudder down my spine. Sirius turned to look and shared the same grin.

"Oy!" Sirius shouted to Snape's retreating form. Quick as a flash the scrawnier boy turned, diving into his robes, pulling out his wand but – _"Expelliarmus!" _– My dad's voice and suddenly Snape's wand was flying out of his hand, landing in the long grass ten feet away.

Snape turned to run get it but Sirius sent him flying, careering into the castle wall, his body smacking with a stomach-churning sound.

My dad walked over, smirking to himself and Snape let out a long and (nearly) incomprehensible string of curses but Sirius, who was closest, definitely got the drift.

"You hear what he called you James – called us?" Sirius said, a pretence of shock smothering the obvious pleasure of being the biggest boy in the playground.

"I can imagine..." Dad smirked, then, "_Scourgify!"_

Snape began choking and gagging on the stream of pink frothing bubbles that were spewing from his mouth. Some of the onlookers laughed nervously and others just watched in curious fascination. From behind me I heard an angry shout, and a slim red-headed girl with angrily glinting eyes pushed her way through the crowd.

"Hey! Stop that!" Lily Evans yelled, pushing James Potter hard in the chest. _Mum and Dad. _My heart almost stopped.

He ruffled up his hair in indignation, lowering his voice by an octave.

"What's it to you Evans?" He proceeded to prove himself and his total power by casting a rigidity curse on an irate, shaking Snape, levitating him three feet into the air and turning upside down. The crowd that had gathered now laughed in earnest as Snape's robes fell down to his ears and his spindly little legs and grey boxers were exposed. It was clear he wasn't the most popular student. I felt a pang of sympathy and embarrassment resonate in my chest.

Mum puffed herself up as he let Snape fall to the floor. She was looking very like Crookshanks when someone rubs him the wrong way, positively filled with hatred. I didn't get it. Didn't everyone say my parents were in the throes of love? Had Snape twisted this memory in his favour? I doubted that given his current position. Everything had begun to feel like some oddly lucid dream, which I supposed in a way it was.

She strode up to Dad, stabbing him vehemently in the chest with her index finger, punctuating her epithets.

"You think you're some school hero, some Gryffindor _golden boy_ but you're not, you're just a pathetic little _bullying_ scumbag," she spat with such venom that even Lupin, who was determinedly trying to remain neutral, cringed. She leaned down to offer Snape a hand up but he flinched away.

"I don't need help from a filthy little Mudblood," he hissed, bristling. She blinked, shock registering on her face for a millisecond to be instantly replaced by an icy demeanour.

"Fine. I won't bother in the future," she said, and turned on her heel, leaving Snape to the mercy of my dad. Although mercy was definitely not the right word, as the latter looked filled with vindictive fury at Snape's words.

"RIGHT!" he bellowed, sending the weaker boy back up into the air, "Let's see what _Snivellus_ keeps in his boxers shall we!"

I let out a gasp of horror but it was nothing compared to the heart-racing jolt of horror that ran through my bones when I felt a hand gripping my arm, strong and painful. I turned, the breath sucked out of my lungs in fear, to see an apoplectic full-grown Snape, face contorted into anger I had never seen before. All blood rushed into my stomach and I felt sick.

Then the world went black.

* * *

An insurmountable wave of rage washed through me, shaking my bones and tensing my muscles. How _dare_ she? My private thoughts, the innermost hidden secrets of my humiliation laid bare for her to laugh and jeer at. I felt my being quiver with an amalgamation of self-loathing and sudden hatred for the girl whose wrists I was gripping with vice-like tightness. I wanted to squeeze and rip and tear at something until it was as truly destroyed as I felt.

Forcing myself to look up, our gazes locked for an indefinably short moment.

There were flashes of emotion in her eyes but suddenly I could not bear it and I thrust her from me, turning away, attempting to regulate the harsh speed of my breathing. From behind there was a little clunk, and she had stumbled over her own damned feet, fallen and collided with the desk's legs. This only served to intensify the indefatigable rage that was burning a black hole in my chest.

Her hands clutched at her head, her eyes glinting. I expected fear but no. There was something tender, something too much like pity to be borne in my current state and I bellowed, bellowed to try and shake the ground she stood on because fear, hatred, _anything _would be better than _-that._

_"_GET OUT POTTER!"

I turned again; bracing my hands against the cool wood of the desk, feeling my knuckles whiten and the hard material push back against the pressure. The word _POTTER _resonated around the room until my head was vibrating with the syllables. There was movement at my feet.

She rose slowly; agonizingly, slowly. Head held high, the ever-defiant Gryffindor hero, she touched my shoulder gently, consolingly, as she walked out and I spun, swelling with anger, wanting to strike out at her, to see her shaking on her knees, with all trace of that look and touch irrevocably removed.

But she was gone and there was nothing remaining but a cold, hollow emptiness in the room which was not a consequence of the chilling charms cast over the dungeons of Hogwarts.

The frustration built within my tensing muscles until they screamed and contracted, needing violent release, sending the desk toppling over. Smashing and clashing and dripping noises filled the room with chaotic harmony that soothed the raging, livid fire. My fists uncurled a fraction.

The pool of leaking memories, dribbling from the cracked Penseive parted around me and seeped into the cracks of the stone flags, evaporating with miniscule hisses.

If only it were so simple.


	22. Dangerous Words

Chapter 22 – Dangerous Knowledge

I finished the retelling of my tale with a sigh, spread my hands and looked up. Ron and Hermione were visibly stunned, mouths agape. And their faces mirrored some of what I'd felt in Snape's memory.

"Yeah," I murmured, "Crazy, isn't it?"

Ron suddenly cracked a little smile and said, "So your dad really let Snape have it huh?"

"Don't Ron," I said, feeling something stab at my chest, "I actually felt-" _guilty, embarrassed, betrayed, _"sorry for him."

Ron's eyes boggled and he shook me gently by the shoulders, smiling incredulously.

"Have you gone mental? After the way Snape's been behaving recently, I'd have thought you'd have been the first person to celebrate somebody taking him down a peg or two."

I looked around; making sure no one else in the common room was sneakily listening in on us.

"But _that _Snape wasn't the Snape we know, he was -" _an outcast, a loser, alone, _"just a kid," I said.

"A git's a git, no matter when or where!"

"I don't think so Ron. Anyway, you know who was acting like the biggest git? My dad."

I twiddled my thumbs wondering if I should have said anything while Ron shook his head.

"I don't know Harry. Everyone who ever talks about your parents seems to think they were pretty amazing,"

I sighed, messing with my nails, "Yeah well maybe that's because they've forgotten the real them."

Hermione gasped, "Harry don't say that! Look, not everyone's perfect all the time. This was _Snape's _memory so it wasn't exactly going to shine a favourable light on your father was it?"

Neither of them said anything for a while and the silence settled uncomfortably. After a minute of unbroken tension I let slip something that had just come into my head.

"He reminded me of Malfoy," I muttered, biting my lip hard even as I said it, regretting that I'd voiced the dark thought lurking around the back of my mind.

Ron was visibly outraged and Hermione shocked. I hung my head, realising that though they'd listened to what I'd said, they couldn't feel the slicing disappointment that I had, watching and living Snape's memory. In this, they would never – could never understand how I felt. It was just the way it was.

"Look, forget it," I said taking another deep breath and plastering on a smile, "We're seeing Sirius tomorrow so don't forget to take scraps from breakfast."

Ron smiled widely at this, "We can go one better than that Harry."

At my nonplussed look Ron said, "Where do you think Fred and George get their food from when they throw parties?"

"Honeydukes, they told us last year, remember?"

Ron shook his head, "The savoury stuff! You don't know?"

Hermione and I shared a look of consternation. Ron loved savouring stuff only he knew – and to be fair it didn't happen very often. We took the bait.

"No! Tell us, please!" I said, mock desperation in my voice. Hermione rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. Ron looked smug.

"The kitchens!" he smirked in triumph, "If you know how to get down there, the elves are more than happy to help out a hungry student."

Hermione suddenly bristled and crossed her arms defensively, "Oh no! I am not exploiting slave labour!"

Ron and I turned to her, sighing. Hermione was still on about her SPEW nonsense. For an instant I felt like a ping-pong ball; flitting between anger with one friend or the other and a lingering exhaustion settled deep in me.

"Fine," I snapped, "We'll go without you."

At this, she flustered, "Well OK, I'll go," As we turned to leave –"But I don't condone it!"

xoxoxox

Karkaroff gripped me hard, his eyes wild, crazed. "He's back Severus I'm sure of it, stronger than ever before. Our lack of support, our betrayal – it won't go unnoticed!"

Disgusted, I shook him off. "There is no evidence that the Dark Lord has risen again! And you would do well to exercise more caution concerning where you voice your opinions. This morning was far too conspicuous."

A hollow, mirthless laugh echoed around the cold room. Karkaroff was sitting shakily, drinking heavily from a crystal tumbler with unsteady hands.

"No evidence? Then what do you say to _this_," He hissed, exposing his left forearm, revealing the ugly blemish, a deep scarlet red, "Darker," he croaked, "See - it twinges! Don't tell me yours is not affected."

I gripped my forearm without thinking, knowing that it would be the same, not wishing to see. Except, as a fortunate product of the Headmaster's binding spell, I had not felt these twinges of pain, physical assurances of malignity.

"It does not mean he is risen," I muttered, through gritted teeth, "perhaps-"

Karkaroff practically roared, jumping from his seat and striding to face me, then thinking better and pacing the floor in figure eights.

"Do not be ignorant Severus! Who has the ability to turn the Marks? To my knowledge, only Him. Yet there's more! There's evil in the air, what with the Potter girl in the Tournament, and ex-Aurors skulking around, patrolling the castle. People sense there is Darkness descending."

He took a large breath and I cursed. Of course he was correct, though it agitated me to admit it. It was inevitable that one day He would return. With this thought, I felt a terrible quickening of pulse and pace, beads of sweat gathering on my forehead, my lip, my arms, my legs. A tormented shiver quivered along my spine, then passed.

It had been a most eventful day.

His eyes implored me, the Dark wizard turned by fear of imprisonment to the Light, to help him. But I could not.

"Karkaroff," my voice was hoarse, "For you, if he is indeed raised with the help of some follower, there can be no retribution. For your betrayal he will hunt you, as he will hunt those others who used information to lessen their own sentences. You must either be prepared with a watertight alibi, some reason for your apparent treachery, or you must find a hiding place so brilliant it will outwit him. This is my advice to you, and the final words we will exchange on the matter."

He seemed to think this through silently, nodding his head though it lacked real conviction. I poured him another measure and he drank, deeply. Once the silence had passed he looked up, eyes burning with desperation.

"And you?" he seemed broken, "What is to be your excuse? Will it involve Potter?"

Eyes narrowing, I felt my attitude harden and my sympathy for this broken man seep away.

"What do you mean by that?"

Another croaking, mirthless laugh fragmented on the walls and assailed my ears from numerous directions.

"It merely seemed that it was quite the intense discussion I witnessed today. The thought of it, Severus Snape and the Dark Lord's archenemy-"

I stood, feeling tense as a cornered animal. The dark glare of my eyes had corked Karkaroff's speech and I was acutely aware of the critical tension frozen in the room.

"I have, and never will have _anything _to do with that arrogant brat outside my professional duties. What you witnessed was perhaps condensed animosity for I detest the creature; she is foolish, self-absorbed."

A curled smile spread across his haggard face, like the unravelling of a twisted rope. With slow, almost exaggerated movements he placed his glass quietly down and crossed to the door.

"It seems I have touched a nerve Severus. Perhaps my situation is not without hope after all."

Leaving no time to dispute this claim, he left, the door swinging closed and the echoing slam mocking me. The desire to grab the remnants of his visit, the used tumbler, and smash it to shards on the cold floor was almost overwhelming, breathtaking.

It was a long time before I managed to regain anything like composure, and even longer before I could bear to contemplate the fact that my actions could have put Stephanie in more danger than ever before.

xoxoxox

Sirius had been starved and a little wild, but otherwise in pretty good condition and the meeting had at least thawed, if not melted, some of the icy tension that was lingering around me these days. The fact that he was close; watching out for me, _there _for me was incredible. I'd never really felt anything like it.

The sun was shining down from its high position in the sky, for once Hermione and Ron weren't bickering and on that Saturday morning, for the first time in a long while, things were actually looking up.

That lasted for about five minutes before a billowing, steaming angry Snape, looking more furious than I'd ever seen him, placed a steely hand on my shoulder and the horrible reality of the previous day hit me like a freight train, slamming into my head with alarming speed - _the shame, the hurt, the pity. _

"Potter!" he spat, "Look at that disgusting mess!" Four pairs of eyes followed the trail of muddy footprints leading from the Entrance Hall to my shoes. It wasn't even wet outside and they most certainly hadn't been there a few seconds before Snape's appearance. I bristled with righteous, teenage indignation.

My mouth opened to tell Snape where he could shove his dirty trick but one flash of his eyes, boring into my own, stopped me short. Beneath the contempt and anger there was a spark of something more vulnerable, something almost – but not quite – like pleading.

"Detention tonight - eight o'clock."

Hermione and Ron made noises of disgust and outrage but Snape, ever powerful, silenced them with a direct stare, and once content with his work, swept off into the darkness of a shadowy corridor.

"What a _prick!_" Ron exclaimed, turning around to discover the incriminating footsteps were gone, "I mean really Harry, he's definitely got it out for you this term. Wouldn't be surprised if it was him that put your name in the goblet."

Hermione looked thoughtfully at me, "Thinking about the task, have you done any practice yet?"

I felt a sickening jolt in my stomach. If I was being completely truthful the third task hadn't been top of my worry list. I'd been too busy dealing with the turbulent changes in Snape's moods. And thinking about that day after the second task. Those kisses and then the argument and my tears and - and the pensieve! Merlin didn't I have enough going on this year without the bloody task?

"No, not really unless you call hexing Malfoy _practice_," I said with a small smile, "Anyway don't worry. Moody pulled me aside in the corridor this morning and said I'd find out what the task was soon enough and that he didn't think it would be too difficult for me."

Hermione tilted her head to the side as we reached the portrait of the Fat Lady hanging outside the common room.

"All the same Harry I think I'll go to the library and take out some spellbooks. You'll need all the help you can get."

A couple of hours later the three of us sat once again in an empty classroom on the fourth floor, surrounded by books left open at various pages. Old, dusty sheaves and well-worn, dog-eared pages sat atop each other, all spilling out magic for me to use. We were tackling a shield spell - a weak one to start with, that keeps away mild curses, hexes and jinxes. So far my legs had been turned to jelly twice by Hermione and Ron had collapsed with jelly knees after my shield finally worked and it rebounded, hitting him.

Watching Ron totter around like some hideous human jellyfish made us burst out in giggles and when he shouted for Hermione to counterjinx him back to normal, his legs wobbled so hard he fell into a splits position which made him howl in pain but sent tears of mirth streaming down my face and even Hermione was curled up on a cushion laughing so hard she was snorting.

All this commotion obviously attracted the attention of someone in the corridor who threw open the door with a bang. Half-expecting Snape I pulled myself upright and wiped my face, trying to regain some degree of dignity.

"Potter," Mad-Eye Moody growled, "Just _what_ (although it came out _huh-what_) do you think you're playing at?"

I gulped a little. Moody's magic eye was surveying the mess we'd made of the classroom and the other, icy blue and cold, was boring into me.

"Practising spells sir," I said as firmly as I could.

"Oh," his expression seemed to soften the tiniest bit, "Well then. I came to tell you that the final task you will be facing is a maze."

Ron, from his comical position, laughed a little. Moody's eyes instantly flicked to him and the laughter stopped short.

"What is so funny Mr. Weasley?" he said, great bushy brows creased.

"Nothing," Ron managed to squeak. Moody was certainly a daunting figure of a man and I could almost see the Auror he would have been in his glory days.

"A maze is nothing to be _scoffed_ at – not this one anyways. It will be filled from start to finish with beasts and puzzles that will be designed to test you physically and magically, test you to your very limit. And do not think these beasts will be the common-garden pansy types you've met in the past oh-hoh no sir. You'll have to practise against jinxes stronger than _Jellylegs _if you want to succeed Miss Potter."

I gulped again although I felt now something almost like relief. A maze of obstacles was neither a dragon nor an hour underwater. It was in fact something I was familiar with. Why hadn't I got through obstacles designed to test an adult wizard – Voldemort no less – in my first year? Yes, I would need more spell practice to get myself up to the levels of Krum, Diggory and Fleur but this wouldn't be too bad. Actually – and here was a thought that was unfamiliar – I could win. I could prove myself to be more than just the Girl Who Lived, someone living on the fame of their birth and actually _earn _eternal glory. I felt a golden glow spread through me, lighting up the room.

Then Ron's stomach grumbled loudly and the spell was broken. I thanked Professor Moody and helped Hermione de-jellify Ron then all three of us headed down to dinner where I was almost too excited to eat. Then I realised I'd probably be spending the rest of my evening in the cold dungeons and this both excited and worried me.

At around ten to eight I made my exit, asking Ron and Hermione to keep looking for spells they reckoned would be useful for the task. It was impossible to describe the strange mix of trepidation and excitement that filled me head to toe. Still, maybe I'd be able to get Snape to talk this time and we'd resolve what seemed like the mountain of tensions and problems that had arisen. The arguments, the kisses, the insults, the _pensieve. _Actually...it didn't seem very likely at all.


	23. Confrontation

Chapter 23 - Confrontation

_A/N: I am so sorry for the long wait, honest to God I've had this chapter done for ages but fanfiction had a hissy fit and wouldn't let me upload anything FOR AGES! Sorry, I love you guys so so much, thank you all for your kind reviews x_

For some reason the dungeons didn't feel the normal ice-cold temperature on that Saturday evening and as I walked towards the now familiar door of Snape's office, a shiver of warmth, tingled through me. I realised that I was _excited _about seeing Snape even though he'd been meaner than a Blast-Ended Skrewt with stomach-ache to me. Still giddily high on the knowledge that finally one of the tasks would be something recognizable, where I didn't feel a million miles behind the three rightful contestants, I realised that I was truly happy.

I knocked something cheery – _rap rap raprap clunk clunk_ – just to get Snape a little agitated. Probably not the most mature course of action but it went with the mood I was in. The door swung inwards and for the tiniest moment, I caught his unguarded eye and could see all the things that he had not said. He was hurt, yes, I could see that. Very hurt. But something deeper too, humiliation perhaps. It was unnerving. The vulnerability made me recoil a little and seeing that, the shutters went down behind Snape's eyes and he was once again that smoulderingly angry mysterious man and I breathed what might almost have been relief.

"Come in Potter," he said, retreating back into the dank, dark room, still cluttered on three walls with hundreds and hundreds of luminous bottles. Immediately I noticed that the green leather sofa with the clawed feet was missing. Obviously Snape did not intend me to get comfortable.

"Professor what is this really about?" I said, crossing to the hard wooden chair that was opposite his desk, "You know, and I know that I haven't done anything wro-"

He cut me off by thrusting a glass of a dark, amber drink into my hands. Seeming to rethink this immediately he took it off me, swallowed it in a swift gulp and handed me a tumbler of water. Then he seated himself across from me, and steepled his fingers together.

xoxoxoxoxox

She sat there, flicked her hair away from her shining eyes with nonchalance, and stared at me. I groaned inwardly. Being totally candid with this girl was going to be harder than I'd imagined, especially with those orbs fixed pointedly on me.

"Look Step- Miss Potter. Perhaps we should clear some of the issues that are quite obviously sitting between us."

She nodded, "I totally agree. Let me go first," she leaned across the table and pressed both her hands against the wooden top, "Why in the name of Merlin have you been such a-" struggling for an appropriate word she chewed her lip, "_git _recently. I mean, I know you hated me before we- well, you know _became closer_ but even the Slytherins have picked up on how you're acting."

I struggled to answer this. The rage at her lack of understanding that had been present since the confrontation after the second task had simply built and built until it boiled in my veins and made me want to strike out every time I was presented with those features which represented the greatest temptation.

"When one is called cruel Miss Potter, one is inclined to live up to that reputation," I whispered, feeling the venom coating my voice. _Bitter old man, _my darkness hissed to me.

She moved her chair closer, brushing the stray hairs that had fallen across her brow so I could see the full sincerity of her eyes. Her whole body was pushed forwards, as if she wished there were no desk between us at all. And wasn't that what I wished? To feel what I had on that bed when she was so _intense_...

"Look I've played that day back in my mind a thousand times and I can't believe I had such a massive temper tantrum. I think it was the Firewhisky,"

I raised my eyebrows in a mocking question and she looked away guiltily.

"Fine," she admitted, "It was hormones. But honestly Sever-" her tongue stuck on the word but she pressed on, "I felt so _humiliated. _It was as if I'd run this marathon, passed the finish line and tasted the victory champagne before someone came along and threw me back to the start. Do you get it?"

I pursed my lips and mulled over the convoluted analogy. Her reactions, using this intuition, were vaguely understandable but surely she had realised I'd done the right thing by her. She was young and innocent and should remain that way, especially by one with a past as dark as mine.

"I was trying to do you a favour. I am not a person you should be involved with Stephanie."

She sighed and pretended to bang her head on the desk in exasperated fury.

"Shouldn't that be _my _decision," she said, maddened, "Honestly I'm only a _child_ in the most literal sense. I don't feel it and I don't look it so I want to know just _what_ is holding you back?"

A tumbling rage pushed itself out my throat and I stood, slamming my hands on the desk, seeing that she could feel the vibrations I made.

"My concern for _you_ holds me back! My wish for you to remain a _child_ as long as possible holds me back!" I was spitting with anger, at her inability to see what I saw, at her damn_ arrogance_. An image of James Potter flew threw my head.

"Yes," I shouted, "You want _this,_" I strode around the desk and hauled her up from her half standing position so she was a few feet away from her chair and tangled my arms around her in an embrace that was full of lust and anger and shame. I skittered a hand firmly down her back, along her spine, making her moan and shiver and then placed warm kisses down her neck, teasing at the supple flesh with my tongue. At this, she pressed herself hard against me, her heavy breathing suddenly all but stopped.

I drew away quickly as I had grasped her. Her arms tried to grasp me and she let out a wounded cry of "_Snape_!"

"Yes," I said, almost breathless myself from the intolerable pleasure, the ruthless gratification, "But you do not want to know about _this, _the _truth_."

xoxoxoxox

My skin was puckering up into ugly gooseflesh as I felt the sudden cold of the dungeons and all at once I wanted both to jump Snape's bones and claw at him. You just don't _do _that to people. My brain and skin still buzzing electrically from the touch of his tongue, I watched as he put his wand to his head, so the tip pressed slightly into his temple. For one tiny, terrible moment I thought he was going to commit some horrible form of wizard suicide.

Instead he drew out a long sinewy piece of light that had the same consistency as the memories in the Pensieve, only it was a darker – a not quite purple colour which had much less shine to it. It looked almost broken.

"What's that?" I asked, aware of the tremble of my quiet voice. I perched on the table because I wasn't sure if my legs could hold the weight any longer; they were shivering.

"Part of a memory," Snape said, his voice as hoarse as mine was weak, "If sufficiently skilled, you can split a single memory into different components. This is a sound strand."

With the skilled hands I should have expected of a Potions master but somehow didn't, he twisted the little string into a tiny glowing ball that he transferred to one palm. He held it outstretched to me. Cautiously I took it from him, not quite knowing what to expect.

"What do I do with it?"

He took my hand, his touch firm, but his eyes almost apprehensive.

"Here," he said, pressing the strangely textured sphere (the only way I could describe it was like a spongy glass) against the smooth shell of my ear. It made a _whooshing _noise as it sucked itself inside my skull. There was an eerie silence which was almost pregnant and threw little spikes of fear into my skin, making my pulse race.

All at once huge screams seemed to be pulsing heavily in my head, trying to claw their way painfully out of me. Hardly aware of the hard flagstones scraping my knees, I dropped to the ground clutching my rattling head in both hands trying to make the awful sounds stop. Amid the bone-grating noises there was a smooth laugh, so without emotion that it made me shudder, my hands still clutching at my ears. Worst of all, perhaps the worst thing I'd ever know is that I could tell who was laughing that dark, joyless laugh. I knew and all at once refused to acknowledge it. Then there were words.

"_PUH-PUH-huh-LEASE DON'T DO THIS!" another tortured scream "NOT THE CHILDREN PLEAAAASE KILL ME INSTEAD" a scream needle-sharp, a star-point of pain on a black canvas "NO – NO please please I'm begging you...NO!"_

The screams changed almost imperceptibly; had choked, wretched sobs hidden in them, there were more too (_children, the screams of children)_ and it was too much, this wretched awful sound was going to tear me apart if I held it in my ears much longer and I felt my muscles begin to spasm.

xoxoxoxoxox

She was shaking, convulsing with fear, her delicate hands clutched desperately in her dark tangle of hair, as if she was attempting to find a way to open up her head and let the sound out.

"Make it stop!" she screamed, looking up at me with wild eyes.

Drawing my wand from my robes, I touched it to her temple and slowly spun the sound from her ears, teasing into a tight ball of power again. She seemed to crumple a little with relief, like taking a hanger out of a piece of clothing. Her shoulders were shaking with whimpers so I sat on the chair near my desk, offering her my outer robe. One hand, with quivering fingertips, took it slowly from me and wrapped it round her frame. After a moment, I felt my head slip into the cold crook of my fingers. That was an inexplicably awful idea. Why on earth had I let a girl I had previously despised hear one of my darkest secrets? _To push her away. To keep her, and yourself, safe. Remember Karkaroff. Remember the Mark. Remember how you don't need her._

An eternity seemed to pass

Then, a warm material pooled across my legs; she had returned my cloak. Her voice in the silence felt like a lifeline.

"Thankyou. I'm okay now."

I felt the creeping sneer appear on my face without summoning it.

"_Okay?_" I asked, mockingly "How, Miss Potter, can you possibly be _'okay' _when I am not after almost twenty years have passed since that memory's inception."

She drew the hair back from her face, studying me thoughtfully. From where she was knelt on the floor, she looked incredibly small and incredibly pretty; her eyes still a little moist, shining brightly.

After a long moment, she stood like a tree in a gentle breeze, almost but not quite secure. There was a moment, brief as a lightning strike where she looked as if she was contemplating running, getting out of the room and never coming back. Her eyes flashed to the door but returned almost as quickly. She steadied.

"Why did you ask me here Snape?" she said, her voice a tentative mixture of student and everything else that she was to me.

I waited a moment, giving her the chance to leave, but she merely sat down firmly on the desk.

"To keep you safe from two things," I murmured, feeling numb needles prick at my skin. Up until now she hadn't known, hadn't realised who she was getting so intimate with.

"What 'two things'?" she said weakly, hands splayed.

"Myself," she opened her mouth but I held up a hand, "You understand my past a little better now I think. And will _not_ associate yourself with me. But also from a darker and more dangerous threat. It will no doubt come as no surprise to you that Voldemort is once again growing stronger. If he rises he will surely come after you."

She nodded blandly, "But what in Merlin does that have to do with me and you?"

"Everything. The Dark Lord is the world's most skilled Legilimens," At her blank look I extrapolated, "He is an expert in extracting the thoughts of others. It is what makes him such a competent torturer."

She seemed to mull this over, her face clouding. Then she brightened.

"But obviously you've had to keep the secret that you're a spy for Dumbledore all these years. So that's not an excuse!"

I stood to face her, and tall as I was, was able to look down my wonderful family heirloom of a nose at her and watch the full extent of my anger flow.

"No! It is not an _excuse_ however the more powerful the thought, the easier it is to extract. I do not have any truly strong feelings towards my work for Dumbledore," _Good Severus leave it there, don't tell her, don't expose yourself,_ "That is not the case with you!" -

_Damn._

She seemed as if she were struggling not to look pleased while also at the same time trying to be disgruntled. Her nose wrinkled.

"The things I have done do not repel you?" I asked, a little incredulously. Only what seemed like a few moments ago the girl had heard me torturing – had heard others kill. She tilted her head.

"Yes, of course," she said quietly, sincerely, "But you had no choice. You and I both know that. Hard as it must be for you to the live with the memories, you did it for – for the greater good. For the Light."

A low, cynical laugh which seemed to annoy and hurt her erupted from my mouth. _Still so naive you see Severus. And with so much raw power. Can you feel her aura? Oh, she would have made a wonderful Dark Witch. If only you had possessed her power when you were young._

"Severus," she said, placing a hand on my shoulder which I shook off, "It may well be a few more months before Voldemort gains any real support, before you're forced to be around him. Until then please can't we at least be friends?"

She blew an exasperated breath between her teeth and ran a hand through her hair.

"Also, I need someone to practice magic with – complicated magic I'll need for the third task, someone experienced. Even Hermione can only do so much."

She, as if deflated now her small speech was over, slumped in the chair I had recently occupied. From between a hanging lock of hair, she looked at me with strong determination.

"All I need right now is a good friend, and a good mentor. That's _all_, ok?"

_But it won't _be_ 'all' forever will it? _

I, at a lost as to what to do, paced the room in tight, frustrated circles while she sat, looking at the walls and waiting for an answer from me. She had known a terrible glimpse of my past and still wanted to be with me. That alone sent a warm bolt of comfort deep inside my torso, to where I imagine one's soul might dwell. However, all the cards were not yet laid out before her.

"Karkaroff suspects a relationship between us," I said, continuing the small circle I was now wearing into the stone, "That almost doubles the risk of the Dark Lord accessing my thoughts, if he suspects them."

What might have been "_No such luck,_" seemed to come from Stephanie but she said, without looking up, "It's your choice, but I'd take the risk. You're" her voice was stronger, "you're worth it, so worth it."

My lips curled in a contemptuous sneer. _Let her think that for now, _whispered the dark thing that still hissed, _it is so simple to _corrupt _her,_ _just let her think it._

There was a pause of two or three minutes where neither of us said a single word and the near-complete silence, instead of hardening and weighing down upon the small space, seemed to float up and lighten the mood. I stopped at the wall of potions and took a break from the incessant pacing. I was irritating myself.

Stephanie shifted the chair, and the scraping noise was loud in the quiet, and spoke.

"I am so, so sorry for what my father and his friends did to you," she murmured, voice sombre but not pitying, and thank Merlin it wasn't pitying because that, a thought struggled through a barrier in my mind – _that's what made you lash out at her yesterday, that insufferable condescension. _

"No one deserves that at school, to be bullied like that, not even a toad like Malfoy. Well...no not ever him," she said, and moved to stand.

xoxoxoxoxox

I wanted to see it, before I decided completely. I wanted to look at the ugly truth and accept it, the way I knew I hadn't completely with the memory.

"Before you answer," I asked, tentatively joining Snape near some bottles which were housing things that looked unnervingly like jellied rats. I shivered, "I just want to look at it."

For a sweet and rushing moment honest bewilderment softened his features. When I pointed at my own left forearm he hardened instantly, as if someone had thrust him, face first, into a sub-zero wind. A haggard, ancient pain flashed across the blank plane of his face, only visible in the drooping of the corners of his mouth.

I said, "Please," with a firmness in my voice and he nodded very slowly.

With what seemed like the best will in the world, he slowly pulled his black sleeve up his arm, revealing that Mark, that awful physical representation of the essential evil Voldemort presented.

The way he was looking at me, I knew this was some sort of test. I could feel his eyes clocking my every move; the way a lion might hungrily watch an antelope at the watering hole. Slowly, feverishly still wondering if it was a stupid or genius idea, I bent my head – and lips – to the black hissing emblem. A colourful pain exploded in my temples, and at the same time all over me. It was an almost sensual version of the way my scar had felt on occasion this year.

After what was probably a few seconds, I drew away and caught Snape's eyes unawares. They were glazed with something as pure as the Mark was evil. Was it happiness? No, no. I realised it must have been the way I'd looked when Snape had given me somewhere to come in the evenings, away from the nagging concerns of everyone else at Hogwarts. _He was grateful._

I felt more than saw it, to another his face might seem disinterested, but it was there. I _knew _it. As I now knew he had done terrible things in his past. Barely aware I was doing it, I nodded a small tight nod and the closest thing to a true smile I'd ever seen lifted his lips slightly.

"Then I shall be your mentor in advanced magic," he said, voice low (but pleasanter than I'd heard it in a long time), leading me with a firm hand towards the door, "and if needs be, a-" the word seemed to catch for a moment on his tongue tip, "a friend. Now it is long time you were in bed Miss Potter. You will need all the rest and energy possible. Training with me will not be the Beginner's Magic Class for Fools it is with Miss Granger and Mr Weasley. Good night."

The door swung open and I realised it would have been sensible to bring the invisibility cloak as it had somehow turned very late.

"Goodnight Professor," I said, and with a smile that knew more than it should, I closed the door behind me.


	24. Slipup

**Chapter 24: Slip-Ups  
**

_A/N: Character change is denoted by a line. Also, wow over year since I've updated! I've had this chapter written forever but just forgot to upload. If I get some good reviews I might write a little more - I actually like this story ^-^ I love you all and plase don't forget to check out my other fics!_

The next four weeks passed in a busy but happy blur of work, magic and excitement. Ron, Hermione and I spent most lunchtimes tucking ourselves away in an empty classroom with Miranda Goshawk's Standard Book of Spells searching the advanced sections for nifty little tricks and hexes that could be useful to me in the Third task. In general things went pretty smoothly although one especially tough piece of wandwork did lead to Ron being stuck in the Hospital Wing for an hour or two after I'd accidentally exchanged his legs for his arms while trying to do a Concealment charm.

Every other night I excused myself to Ron and Hermione, pretending I was going out into the grounds for some secret flying to ease my stress, or to the library to do a little more research. Instead I made my way down to the dungeons, invisible, to where Snape was waiting with some rather more complicated magic.

He was a harsh teacher (honestly I should have guessed this, after four years of Potions) full to the brim with cutting remarks when I fumbled my wandwork or messed up the incantation (_-Been taking secret lessons from Longbottom, Potter?-Toad got your tongue? - Were you trying to ward off your own idiocy or was that an attempt at a spell?-I've seen Filch produce a better Volvariato! –) _And once, after another of his cutting jibes, I may have accidentally set alight a very valuable old desk in the largest Potions classroom. Snape let rip a string of swearwords that would have made Mad-Eye blush.

Yet while it was not always an _entirely _pleasant experience, when I did successfully manage a spell he would look at me with a curt nod and that almost-smile and I would feel happy.

Best of all, he'd stopped his unpleasantness in class – restraining himself to the odd acidic throw-away about the state of my work to keep up appearances. While our relationship wasn't what I necessarily wanted, it was better. The nerve-jangling tension was gone and I understood he needed _this -_ this building up of trust, and he needed to wait, at least until next year (although every time I thought about how long it was my heart ached). For a man who appeared to care very little what others thought of him, he valued his integrity highly.

Knowing what he wanted, I began to realise that he wouldn't be the one to take things further. Actually, it was painfully obvious in the way he held himself a little straighter when I was around, and kept a respectful, professional distance. A silent understanding had formed that I would call him Snape, or professor, or sir and he would stick to Miss Potter (although he usually slipped in an affectionate '_idiot girl'_ during our evening classes), while we were outside the confines of his office. I think it put him at ease to pretend we were still only meeting as pupil and professor.

Frustrated as I was, I stuck to this because I wanted to please him and I wanted more than anything for him to trust me.

Around a week before the third task, the man himself passed me in the corridor and with the barest tilt of the head motioned for me to follow him. Trying to look inconspicuous, I took a U-turn around a few bemused first-years and tailed the smooth swish of black robes at a distance.

"What's wrong professor?" I asked, as we entered a room that had the look of an unused broom cupboard. I sneezed as years' worth of dust wriggled its way up my nose.

Snape did not reply immediately but muttered, "_Defigo,_" at the door. Then, after a greenish light had washed over it, "_Silencio_"

He seemed to let out a breath that even he hadn't realised he was holding in.

"Sir?" I asked again, a bit louder. Maybe he hadn't heard me the first time. The space was cramped and a very old and rusty rake was digging into the small of my back as I tried to keep the usual distance. It was a hard task in a room that was little bigger than the cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive. I could feel the heat of his body and it sparked something primal that made me want him badly.

"I wanted to wish you the best of luck, Miss Potter," Snape said solemnly, inclining his head in a little respectful nod. I felt an unintentional blush fire across my cheeks.

"Thankyou," I said quietly. Was that it? Why then the cupboard and the locking charm and the silencing charm?

"And to tell you to take the _utmost_ care when participating in the final task," he said, looming over me a little, eyes darkly serious. I shivered – partly because of the intensity of the room but mostly with frustration. I _knew_ I had to take care, everyone under the sun had been telling me that all year and for no apparent reason. Their constant claustrophobic concern was wasted energy because I was fine, wasn't I? I was still capable of looking after myself. I was still _alive. _

"Why?" I said sharply, letting the irritation grow. I was going to be late for Transfiguration and I could hardly tell McGonagall that I'd be locked in a cupboard with Snape. She'd send me to Dumbledore or maybe to St Mungo's.

* * *

"Because Miss Potter," I said, struggling to keep my voice rational, "There are Dark influences in this castle at this very moment. They have been here all year but-" I cut myself off, not wanting to scare her unduly.

_But now they are stronger, I can feel it, and I am afraid for you._

Her delicate eyebrows twitched as I spoke, as if she were struggling not to roll those pools of green skywards. She shifted uncomfortably and I was aware of the proximity of her body, curving gracefully toward me. _Not now, _I hissed inwardly.

"I have taught you every protective spell I can reasonably justify teaching a child your age," Again she seemed to bristle furiously. She was as touchy about age as Minerva, "But you, Miss Potter, must exercise caution next week. I am aware it is not one of your strong suits but for your own sake do _try_ not to be too reckless."

There was a pause and I pressed her for an answer, "I want your word Miss Potter, that will you attempt to stay safe."

She nodded tightly, lips whitely pursed, as if she were trying very hard not to be insolent.

On a selfish impulse, I reached out and folded my arms around her small shoulders. She tensed a little in surprise but then swung her body forward into my grasp, and pressed herself against me from calf to shoulder while entwining her arms with enthusiasm around my waist. I breathed the delicious floral scent of her hair and tried to submit this brief moment to memory. She sighed in apparent contentment.

"Thanks," she said, embracing me tighter, slipping her hips nearer mine. Controlling the urge to tilt her small head upwards and seize her lips in a ferocious kiss, I gently removed her arms.

I unlocked the door and checked that no one was walking about. The corridor was clear, a sure indication that Potter would be late for her next class. As she inched her way past me, she grabbed and squeezed my hand gently, stroking my fingers as she released it. It was a gesture that I couldn't remember anyone ever having made to me before. I nodded to her again, and watched her leave.

* * *

"Miss Potter," McGonagall's ringing voice called as I attempted to sneak into the Transfiguration classroom unnoticed, "Triwizard Competitor or not, the school schedule still applies to you. Five points from Gryffindor."

"Professor!" I cried, but McGonagall fixed me with such a stern look that I merely took a sullen seat next to Ron who was glaring daggers at her. She ignored the two of us and carried on demonstrating exactly how one could turn badgers into beavers.

"Cross-species transfiguration is not one of the most difficult branches of transfigural magic, however it is one in which details are _crucial_..."

Ron muttered under his breath as McGonagall continued her speech, "What kept you?"

I settled for a half-truth. It was better than an outright lie.

"Snape. He thought I was up to no good." Professor McGonagall looked over, as if she had heard me, but carried on with the lesson.

"Were you up to no good? Ouch that hurt!-"

Ron rubbed his arm where I'd punched it and I grinned at him as Hermione shot us a dirty look and placed a prissy finger to her lips. She straightened up as if trying very hard to listen to every word Professor McGonagall was saying. Ron looked exasperatedly at her.

By the end of the lesson I had managed a beaver that only had a very small black and white streak down its furry back. Ron's was still looking very much like a badger having a bad hair day. Patting mine happily, I gathered my things together but was stopped by McGonagall calling my name.

"Potter! I should like to see you for a moment please."

She couldn't give me a detention, could she? Not the day before the final task, not a week and a bit away from the very end of term. Feeling anxious, I motioned for Hermione and Ron to go ahead, telling them I'd meet them in the Common Room.

"Professor?" I said, when everyone had filtered out of the room.

She gestured for me to take a seat and I did so, still feeling slightly unnerved.

"Is this about the final task?" I asked, not waiting for an answer, "Because I already know not to be reckless, and to take only necess-"

"No Potter, it isn't," she said, an almost gentle smile widening her usually pursed lips, "It's about Professor Snape."

Immediately I stiffened and felt a little dizzy with panic. _This is how rabbits who can see oncoming cars must feel, _I thought, dazed.

"What about him?" I heard myself say in a small voice.

"Well, I know the two of you have put aside some of your differences this year, despite reports from Miss Granger to the contrary."

What? Hermione had been -? But my thought was cut off by what Professor McGonagall said next.

"I just hope Professor Snape isn't," she hesitated, frowning, the thin lines in her face sagging with concern, "_abusing _this to help-"

But I didn't hear what else she had to say. I had risen, livid, at the word _abusing_.

"You think-? How dare you!" I sputtered, outrage making the words short and sharp, "_Professor Snape_ would _never in a million years do _anything _like that!_" I think I almost hissed and McGonagall looked taken aback. I realised I was breathing heavily, face bright red. She cocked an eyebrow.

The air in the room was heavy with my anger. I unclenched my shaking fists.

"Sit down Miss Potter," her voice was definitely a lot cooler, the gentleness completely vanished, "I was merely trying to say, before I was so rudely interrupted, that if Professor Snape had been giving you clues to the tasks, you could be _expelled_ from the competition and Professor Snape could be in a spot of bother."

I felt my stomach plummet with hot, liquid embarrassment.

"Oh," I said stupidly.

"Indeed."

"Professor I'm so sorry, I thought-"

"I'm quite aware of what you_ thought_ Miss Potter. _If _I, or Dumbledore had any inkling that something of that nature were going on it would be a _far _more serious matter and require a good deal of investigation."

She looked at me very pointedly and I struggled for something to say, something that would clear the obvious suspicions.

"Sorry professor, of course there isn't. It's just since I've got to know Professor Snape a little better I've been really annoyed at the way people...uh...castaspersionsbecause of their own misjudgements." I smiled, trying to look innocent and bashful while at the same trying desperately to see if she'd bought it.

"You forget Miss Potter, that I have been a member of Hogwarts staff for nigh on thirty years now, and know Professor Snape very well," her voice was decidedly cold now, and her tone still vaguely suspicious.

"I know, and I really am sorry Professor McGonagall. It's just become a force of habit," inspiration struck hard, and I gabbled my next sentence, "And when you have to deal with horrible jokes of that kind from the Slytherins it becomes second nature to get a bit, urm, defensive."

Professor McGonagall did not speak for a long while and for a terrible moment I thought she was going to cart me off by the ear to Dumbledore and tell me I was expelled and that Snape was going to Azkaban. Then a small, tight smile broke across her face.

"Alright Miss Potter, I understand," she said, more kindly, "Worry about the final task has probably got you a little frayed at the edges I don't doubt. You may go,"

Feeling like I'd dodged a particularly dangerous bullet, I left. Not until I was out of the classroom and two floors away did I finally let out the shuddering breath of relief I'd been holding in.

I flumped into a comfy chair next to Ron and Hermione who were bickering wildly. I was so relieved about having got away from McGonagall I didn't care.

"Well Ronald, perhaps if you spent less time staring at Fleur Delacour's _derriere,_" Hermione spat the word, "in class and more time _concentrating _then maybe you'd be able to do your own homework for a change!"

She got up to storm off, hair frizzing wildly and saw me.

"Oh, Harry, sorry I didn't see you there. What did McGonagall want? She wasn't too angry was she?"

"Yeah," Ron chimed in, "Not like her to get really narked, not with you mate."

"She wasn't. She just wanted to make sure I was ready for the Third task, you know, told me to be careful blah blah blah," I said, smiling at them, lying through my teeth.

"Oh," they said and broke into easy smiles. Hermione suddenly looked torn between sitting down and forgiving Ron and being rude and storming off as she had planned to.

"Um," I said, filled with an urge to go and see Snape and ask him about the suspicious-McGonagall situation, "I'm going to go and have a quick fly around the grounds, all this talk of the third task is making me nervous."

* * *

I reached to the very back of the shelf and my fingers closed over empty space. _Damn. _I'd have to gather some more Sowret root from the Forest. Cursing lightly, I crossed the room pointing my wand at the bubbling cauldron, temporarily putting my work on hold. The hat-stand bowed low, handing me my cloak and I grumbled some thanks at it. They tend to work better when kept appeased.

I could, of course, have ordered a House Elf to run this errand, yet I was loathe to trust them fully, however _intelligent _Dumbledore maintained they were. A brisk walk would also keep my mind on appropriate subject matters. As I opened the door I walked into an entirely inappropriate subject matter.

At first I did not know what had collided with me, but in an instant a head of wild black hair appeared and realisation sunk in.

Stephanie was almost panting, cheekbones lit with a delicate flush of red. Her eyes shone and I felt an unexpected rush of lust. Checking the corridor for any onlookers (unlikely, but possible) I let her into my rooms.

"We need to talk," she said, as soon as her breath was caught.

I did not reply, but simply motioned that she put the cloak back on and follow me. I left my rooms and began to walk towards the castle's nearest exit. The forest was not necessarily more private but I needed air. Her proximity was alarmingly tantalizing.

"Where are we going?" She asked, hand brushing against my arm.

"The forest," I murmured, "I can kill two Firelizards with one spell."

"Sounds ominous," Stephanie said, and then fell into an uncharacteristic silence. The sky was heavy and bruised with unshed rain and I cursed myself for not bringing my waterproof cloak. As we neared the edge of the thick and tall trees, Stephanie clutched my arm.

"Can I take the cloak off now?" came the disembodied voice.

"I suppose you may. You can say you're serving detention if anyone comes across us," I glanced at the sky again, "Although that is doubtful given the impending bad weather."

After she emerged, seemingly from thin air, I asked, "You said we needed to talk?"

* * *

"Well," I said tentatively and barrelled straight into the whole story, not missing out anything and watching every twitch on Snape's face. When I'd finished I hung my arms down by my sides and waited nervously for him to say something. He was completely, horribly silent. Then, without a word, he turned and began to walk off, legs marching long, angry strides.

My brain whirred into panic mode and I couldn't decide whether to run after him or wait where he'd left me. Sighing, I leant against a tree, heart thumping with anxiety. Was he going to come back and tell me I couldn't come and see him anymore?

_Please not that, _I thought, _please don't let him tell me he doesn't want to see me, doesn't want me anymore._

I felt like crying but held it in, thinking that it might piss him off when he got back, that it might make me look like a little girl. I was surprised then when a large wet droplet rolled down my cheek and splashed onto my robes. I looked up as lightning tore the sky apart and flashed strobe lights into the dark tangle of trees. A few seconds passed then a deafening, crushing roll of thunder crashed above my head.

The air was not air anymore but thick sheets of falling rain, whipped into my face and against my back by rushing, violent winds.

"Severus!" I screamed against the noise of the wind because I was suddenly aware how alone I was. Darkness had covered the dim light of evening and the only time I could see properly was when the lightning revealed the surrounding forest for split seconds. Nightmare images of dark monsters stole into my mind and I remembered Aragog and screamed for Severus again.

I blundered on and in my rush I scratched my hand on a vicious looking plant. Dark red welts sprung up where the spines had touched me. Worried the wind was going to take my cloak from me I stuffed it under my jumper and fought my way forwards, ignoring the searing pain in my hand.

Out of nowhere someone strong grabbed me and pulled. I looked up to see a tall, dark figure. Severus! I'd never been more pleased to see him. I followed his touch blindly, all my muscles contracting with the cold and wet and eyes screwed up against the vicious rain.

At the edge of the forest he stopped me and looked out at the sheets of pouring rain between us and the castle. Without looking at me he said something I couldn't catch over the wind and rain. I got the gist when he gestured to his own cloak. When I had disappeared, he began to stride towards the castle and I had to do a silly little skip-hop to keep up with his pace. He was still steamingly angry.

As we neared his door I thought he might slam it in my face but his arm propped it open a second longer and I slipped in, sodden. I shed the cloak and went to stand near the fire, my whole body shaking with the cold that had sunk bone-deep.

I remembered a drying spell Hermione had taught me last week, "_Siccuse!" _

My soggy skirt and jumper gave a pathetic little _fizz _and some of the wetness disappeared but it was a pretty feeble attempt. I looked up; Severus was standing at his drinks cabinet with his back to me. I removed my cloak because it was the most water-logged item and went to sit cross-legged by the fire, stretching my hands towards the warmth.

After a few minutes Severus took a place on the sofa. I turned around and kneeled up so I could get a little closer.

"Are you angry with me?" I said quietly after a period of tense silence.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his forehead wearily. He said nothing. I felt my heart tug a little. _Please don't say I've ruined this, _cried the pitter-patter of my chest_._

"Severus?" I asked, "Say something won't you?" he remained obstinately quiet, "Look, shout at me if you have to - just say _something._"

His eyes flicked to me and gave me a piercing but barely readable glare.

"Yes," he sighed, after a pause, "Yes, I am angry with you for being foolish around so shrewd a woman as Minerva. But, I am beyond livid with myself for putting you in this position."

"What position?" I asked, feeling relieved that his anger towards me seemed very small. It was mostly his discontent with himself that had made him storm from the forest. I took a place on the other end of the couch.

His arm was draped casually along the back of the couch and the me-sized crook that it made looked warm and inviting.

"The position where one wrong word to the wrong person could land you in more trouble than you've ever been in before," he answered, looking at me seriously.

I edged a little closer towards that space his arm made; the spot that looked so comfortable.

"I'll be more careful Severus. You can trust me. I want to be with you," I said, trying to get across the essence of what I felt. I opened my mouth to say more but it was impossible to put my ocean of emotion into words.

He made a non-committal humming noise in the back of his throat and looked at the ceiling. I took that as an opportunity to slide against his side. Immediately he tensed up but I coiled my arm around his middle.

"You don't want me to get pneumonia and die do you?" I asked, nudging him gently. I let my teeth chatter for effect.

"You're incorrigible," he muttered, but curled his hand around my shoulder. I tucked my legs up underneath me and felt a deep contentment all the way from my head down. We fit together in a way that was so perfect I felt a little punch-drunk.

Severus breathed deeply and said despondently, "I _should_ be telling you not to see me anymore. I should be telling you that if you come down to my rooms I will not open the door. Today has proved how easily this could go wrong."

I held my breath but he didn't elaborate. I edged closer so that every inch of my right side was pressed against him.

"So why aren't you?" I asked when it was clear he wasn't going to answer.

"Because I am a selfish, immoral man," Severus said without pause. He was not looking at me, but staring blankly ahead curling the fingers of his other hand in a distracted way.

I shook my head firmly and swiftly against his chest, so he could feel my refusal to believe this, and reached for his hand. I stroked his long fingers, which became still as I spoke.

"No you're not. One thing you're absolutely not is selfish. Without your help and all the time you've put into teaching me spells, I'd be terrified about tomorrow. You make me feel safe, Severus."

He turned to look at me with apparent interest and I craned my neck to press my lips to his. I wanted to show him how much he really meant to me. Instead of freezing or pushing me away he placed his hand gently on my neck and pulled me closer, kissing me harder, lips moving slowly but firmly against mine. I felt light, weightless, floating on my happiness. Every single cell in my body was super-aware as I curved my body towards him and pressed our chests together. His hand slipped from my neck to my waist and I smiled into the kiss and placed a hand on his face, stroking his cheekbone with my thumb.

After unknown moments he pulled away, hand still holding my waist.

"It's late. You should go," he said quietly, forehead still touching mine.

There was a sinking in my stomach. It was so warm and comfortable in his arms.

"Maybe I could spend the night here?" I said hopefully, looking up at him and stroking my fingers down his arm.

He pushed me away and stood up, moving towards the other side of the room. He sighed and looked at me as if I was stupid. I fought hard not to let my face crumple.

"What if McGonagall decided to perform a patrol and found you missing? You have already slipped up once today Stephanie."

He paused and turned to pour himself another drink.

"Perhaps it would be wise if you left," his voice wasn't gentle any longer.

The warm feeling was completely gone as I felt a distinct coolness radiating from Severus. I had clearly said the wrong thing and it had pissed him off royally. Feeling frustrated, I got up and grabbed my school and my invisibility cloaks from the hat rack. It patted me gently on the shoulder and bowed.

As I passed him I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "I didn't mean anything by that. I just thought I could do with feeling a little safe before the task tomorrow. Goodnight."

* * *

Before she could open the door and leave I had crossed the room in two strides and taken her wrist, spinning her round. I wanted to apologise. I wanted to tell her how fervently I wished to hold her and keep her with me, keep her safe, keep her in my arms. I wanted to tell her of my intense frustration and the battle that raged between my conscious mind and my conscience.

Instead I simply tilted my head down and captured her slightly parted lips. Her soft, wet tongue touched my bottom lip accidentally and I moaned, cock twitching at the sensation.

Her hand settled on my chest and for a moment I thought she would push me away. Instead it shifted so her spread fingers were resting just above my heart. _Sentimental romantic_, I chided her silently.

"What was that for? I thought you were angry," she said a little breathlessly when I pulled away.

"I was furious at myself because I wanted you to stay," I told her truthfully, "It makes things infinitely harder when I must maintain constant control around such a wanton girl."

"Might be more fun if you didn't," Stephanie said with a smirk.

"And I could not let you leave without telling you, once more, to be careful tomorrow."

I caught the unrestrained roll of her eyes this time and placed a firm hand on her cheek, forcing her to look at me.

"I am serious. So help me if you are injured tomorrow because of your damned trademark heroics I'll-"

"You'll what? _Kill _me?" she answered defiantly.

I smirked bitterly, "No. I will charm my chambers in such a way that they will refuse you entrance. Permanently."

She grimaced but conceded, "With a punishment like that you know I'll be careful. I just want to get this whole thing over with."

I wished her good luck and held her tightly before watching her leave. I sighed. Knowing the girl, the chances of her finishing the task without someinjury or another were small.

Minimal.

_Zero_.


End file.
